


Lammas Night

by pherryt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Temporary Character Death, Wizards, bed sharing, dubious consent (but not really), ghost porn, sick!Sam, some mild (unintentioned) Homophobia, soul bonds, tub sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 16:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester have spent their whole lives on the road. All they ever wanted was to pass the Wizard Trials and find a place to settle down like normal people for once. But the Trials leave Sam less than well and Dean jumps at the first offer they get. What better way to start their new lives and give Sam a chance to recover than as the official Wizard for a small, simple town?There was no way that Dean could have anticipated that the sleepy little town wasn't as idyllic as he had been led to believe, that the job entailed more than Chief Crowley would ever admit, that their lives were in mortal danger and oh, that's right, the ghost of the last wizard who'd undertaken the post was now courting him.So much for the simple life...Dean must now decide by Lammas Night if he will banish or resurrect the ghost of Castiel – but no matter which way Dean decides, they still need to find out what happened to Castiel and why.And will they be next?





	1. Cottage at Canisbay

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a labor of love, an accidental undertaking, and has had me bouncing around trying to restrain myself because I REALLY REALLY wanted to share this a LONG time ago.
> 
> This story is named after the song that inspired it, which I rediscovered by accident through my kid exploring some of my older music files. It's a Filk/Folk song by Mercedes Lackey (or at least the version I know of is by her) and it ends on a cliffhanger. This story was written in 3 parts and part 1 covers the song and resolves the cliffhanger.
> 
> If any of you are interested, you can listen to the song here [Lammas Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwprORHkf1k) on Youtube. (it's Audio only) If the music style is not to your liking, I'll be placing the lyrics at the end of the story so you can see how close i stayed or how far I strayed.
> 
> The absolutely BEAUTIFUL Art is by [ Grandle ](http://grandle.tumblr.com/)\- who you can find on tumblr to see more of their art! They did an absolutely wonderful job! AND they managed to do art for multiple Big Bangs! (And it was just as awesome!) Thats a lot of work ! Please show Grandle some love! Thank you AGAIN, so much! I love the art :D
> 
> Note - there is google translated Latin threaded through the text. I'll add translations to the end of each chapter that has them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The collage is the Promo art created by me (authors are asked to do this as a separate piece, not required by the artist ) as required by the DCBB - so it feels right to put it here as the official header for the story.

“Sammy, I’m telling you, something’s off here.” Dean had barely shut the front door before he was speaking. Sam coughed from where he sat bundled up in the small, cozy front room of the cottage they’d been granted. He shifted and the blanket fell away, revealing his pale and tired face, his limp hair. Dean immediately forgot what he’d been saying as he rushed over to his brother. “Shit, are you feeling worse?”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Sam coughed again, his hand lifting weakly to cover his mouth.

“Like hell you are,” Dean growled, picking up the blanket and tucking Sam back into his cocoon. Sam had insisted in getting out of bed so he could at least feel like he wasn’t an invalid. Dean had allowed it after much arguing, but with conditions. Staying warm was one of them. “I’ll build up the fire some more.”

“No, I’m good, Dean. Don’t worry about me. What were you–“ a small coughing fit made Sam pause as Dean watched anxiously, “–talking about when you came in?”

“Oh, yeah… I dunno if I trust Crowley.” Dean turned away to tend the fire.

“Why not, Dean? He’s been nothing but nice.” Sam shifted, reaching for the mug of water and knocking aside the blankets once more. Dean pretended he hadn’t seen after noting the nervous glance Sam cast at him as he tried to shift the blankets back into place. Finally, Sam gave it up as a lost cause and finished reaching for the stone mug, his fingers curling around it. He had to grasp it with both hands to keep it steady.

“Yeah, too nice,” Dean grumbled as he carefully set another log in the stone fireplace. “Just, what is it he’s hiding? What are they all hiding? He makes my skin crawl.”

“What’s making your skin crawl is us settling down. We’ve been here how long?”  Sam gulped down the water, draining the mug. His throat must have been verging on painful with all that infernal coughing. “You’re just itching to get a move on already. Dean, you’re  _ looking _ for reasons because you feel guilty.”

“What? No! I do not!” Dean whirled around, his voice defensive and hard and yes, definitely guilty. He wouldn’t look his brother in the eye and his fingers twitched and fidgeted with the end of his tunic. Dean looked up in time to see Sam’s fingers go limp, dropping his mug. At least it was empty and it went no further than the mass of blankets in his lap. With a sigh, Dean once again pretended that he hadn’t seen.

Instead, Dean returned to the topic at hand, pacing in front of his brother. His hands rose to rub at the back of his neck, pushing through his short-cropped hair. “I mean, you’re right, I’m not used to… to this,” Dean waved around him at the little stone cottage, not quite big enough for the both of them, but certainly much better than anything they were used to in their 20 odd years of life. “Living inside four walls, having a real bed, having…  _ guests _ all the time. Having responsibilities.”

“Dean, we’ve always had responsibilities—you, particularly, have had more than your fair share since Dad…” Sam coughed once, twice, but managed to smother it before it grew into a full-blown attack.

Dean paused long enough in his ranting to eye his brother, making sure he was okay. As soon as it became evident that Sam wasn’t about to have an episode, Dean kept going, ignoring Sam’s words. “But this is good. It’s good for us. Good for you. I’m not messing this up for you, Sam. You need this. You need to be out of the open. Winter’s fixing to be pretty bad this year I think. I know we’ve made do before, but I’m certain it’ll kill you if we try that this year. You need to be able to rest for once. The Trials messed you up, little brother and I’m going to make sure you get the chance to recover and return to your old, obnoxious self.”

Neither wanted to discuss the Trials. It had been almost impossible to get the Shurley School of Wizardry to allow two self-trained wizards to take their elite test. But the brothers couldn’t get their official certification without it. And without that certification, they wouldn’t be considered respectable enough for anyone to even consider hiring them for any long term, halfway decent jobs.

The Winchesters were tired of having to scrounge for every last thing, tired of not having a home. Living on the road was… lonely. Particularly for Dean who couldn’t even be open about who he wanted, who he desired. He’d never be able to find love, because in the eyes of society, he was  _ wrong. _ Dad had once told Dean that something inside of him was broken and he’d never be able to find  _ true  _ happiness.

It was a depressing series of thoughts and Dean pushed them roughly away. Falling back to memories of the Trials and the events surrounding them.

Taking the Trials would have opened up doors for them— _ had already  _ opened up doors. A man named Crowley—the headman for a village called Canisbay—had approached them the day before the Trials were due to start, offering to take them on if they passed. They just had to convince the school—and by convince, they meant bribe—to allow the brothers to attempt the Wizard Trials. And at the last minute, they’d been granted the permission they sought.

They’d succeeded, but the cost to Sam had been high. Dean didn’t understand it. Sam was the better wizard; he studied more and had more knowledge at the tip of his fingers than Dean did. If anyone hadn’t stood a chance, it should have been Dean.

Instead, something in the Trials had torn Sam up inside. The Head Wizard had been surprised to see that either of them had made it out, much less both of them, but did not seem surprised at Sam’s condition. All he would say was that Sam would recover, given time. Dean was determined to give Sam that time.

So when Crowley approached them again, once more offering them the position of village wizard, room and board as payment, Dean had leaped at the chance without a second thought, for Sam’s sake. Yet now he wondered if that had been the wisest decision.

Something was fishy in the town of Canisbay. Dean was certain of it.

It was the way nobody would talk about the last magician that had held post here, not even to speak his name. His mark was all over the little cottage; his books and clothes still neatly stowed away on shelves and in drawers; a few of his wizarding tools still left out on the table in the workroom when Dean and Sam had been shown inside.

Crowley said the wizard had died, but wouldn’t speak of how. He said only that their village had been without protection against the wild creatures of the deep forest for too long.

“What’s so special about that forest? I mean, not to sound ungrateful, sir, but many villages have to fend off wild beasts without magic protection.” Dean hadn’t been able to keep from questioning despite everything inside him craving to say  _ “Yes!” _ instantly. Sam had been hunched over the table at the inn in Arcadia where they’d been staying during the trials, his skin feverish, hazel eyes dull. Dean hadn’t been able to believe himself, that he’d risk Sam’s well being by daring to question the very thing they’d hoped find.

“Many villages don’t have to deal with twisted creatures leftover from some ancient war,” Crowley had sneered. “Why, are you too good to protect a small and simple town?”

“No! I just need to know as much as possible, if we’re to do an adequate job protecting your village,” Dean hastened to assure him. They needed this job.

“I’m not hiring  _ him _ .” Crowley sneered again. “Your brother looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. We’re hiring you.”

“My brother and I are a package deal.” Dean’s eyes narrowed at Crowley.

“Look, I don’t give a flying  _ fig _ who lives with you, as long as you  _ do your job _ . We don’t have any money to pay you. But we have a place you can stay, and we’ll feed you. Whatever’s inside the house is yours to use. I believe our last magician’s books and spell components are all still there. Treat them as your own. Of course, if you should choose at any future point to decline the position, we keep those things for the next wizard.”

“Whatever, you’ve got a deal.” Dean held out his hand. Crowley eyed it before slowly raising his own. Their hands met, and together they gave one, two firm shakes before letting go. Dean resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his pants. Crowley had gone on ahead, leaving Dean to figure out the best way to get Sam to Canisbay without making matters worse.

It was a good setup. They just had to  _ get  _ there.

Now, of course, Dean was wishing he’d asked around a little bit more about the circumstances surrounding the unknown magician’s death. He hadn’t walked off. The fact that all his stuff was still there made it blatantly obvious. No wizard would leave the tools of his trade, of his art behind. Not willingly. Yet there were no signs of struggle or the kind of damage that someone forcing their way inside by magic means would have left. There were no traces of blood on the stone floors.

First, Dean had looked for the wizard’s working robes to see if it had been a casting that had done him in, but he hadn’t been able to find any. The next thing Dean tried was a scrying to find the wizard’s marked grave. But that had also come up with nothing. He’d found the grave but that was it. No last moments, no cause of death. And that should have been impossible. All Dean found was the traces of a body, but no body itself. And without a body...“ _ How _ does Crowley know the man is dead? Unless he had a part in it? Maybe they all did.”

“Really, Dean? You think any of the sweet, naïve and gentle folks like Jess overpowered a fully trained magician in his own home? Or Ruby? Meg? Eileen? Or—“

“I get the picture, Sam,” Dean answered with a sigh from the kitchen. There was a moment's silence, broken by Dean working the water pump to refill the mug he’d plucked out of Sam’s blankets. “They could have teamed up on him though,” he added thoughtfully on his return. “One of them could have tricked him with her feminine wiles, getting him to let his guard down while the others laid in wait, just ready to—“

“Dean!” Sam said sharply, before descending into a series of particularly bad sounding coughs. Dean rushed over, water slopping over the edge of the mug with every step. He set it down hurriedly on the table beside Sam and helped him lean forward, supporting him in a sitting position. Sitting up seemed to put less strain on his breathing and helped him to cough less. But this was worse than usual.

“Sam? Sam! Answer me!” Dean wracked his brain for a healing spell, though the only one he could cast wasn’t good enough. It wouldn’t cure Sam, wouldn’t make him better. But it could ease the cough, help him relax and get some sleep.

Dean closed his eyes and lay one hand against Sam’s chest, the other against his back, pinning Sam between them. He carefully chanted the words of a dead language he barely understood and hoped he hadn’t messed up any of the tenses this time. “ _ Lenire tussim paululum dolorem facere rectum pluvial _ . ”

He repeated the words a second, then a third time before it had any effect. Dean let out a relieved sigh as Sam sagged forward against his hand and the coughing slowed, then finally stopped. “C’mon, we’re putting you to bed. It’s gotta be more comfortable than this stupid chair.”

“It’s fine. It’s more comfortable than the ground,” Sam protested as Dean hooked his arms around his brother’s shoulders and heaved him upwards, pulling him towards the bedroom in the back, blankets and all. There was only one room, and it only had one real bed. With Sam as sick as he was, Dean would hear nothing of Sam sleeping on the floor. Until Sam was better, he was getting the bed.

“Anything is more comfortable than the ground,” Dean grumbled without really thinking about it, concentrating more on getting his overgrown brother’s legs to move forward and keep him from tilting into the walls. The hall was narrow, and not really wide enough for two men as large as the Winchesters to walk abreast, but they managed it. Somehow. Neither of them had much experience in staying in a home, a permanent structure, but even Dean thought the stone and thatch cottage was ill designed. Thankfully, it was a short walk to the bedroom.

Dean got his brother propped slightly upward in the bed, but otherwise, laying down. “I’ll get dinner. I think Kate brought a stew by this afternoon. That and some warm bread should make you feel better,” Dean said as he bustled about, tucking the edges of the blankets down and under Sam until he could barely move.

“Dean—“

“No, you just lay right there, you moose, and let me take care of you, okay?” Dean disappeared before Sam could do more than sigh sadly.

In the kitchen, Dean found the stew hanging over the open fireplace simmering away, keeping warm. He grabbed a ladle down from the wall and gave it a stir. The stew was bubbling nicely and he sipped carefully at the ladle. Tasted okay. Reaching for a couple of wooden, hand carved bowls, he filled them up, then unwrapped the bread that had been left warming nearby. A few quick movements and he had it sliced up and a couple of pieces lay atop the stew, soaking in the wonderful aroma and taste.

Dean had to hand it to the people of Canisbay—not a one of them were bad at cooking. It sure was an improvement on his and Sam’s cooking; often bland and always the same things, day in and day out. Here, in Canisbay, the variety of meals and flavors were spectacular. That was one thing aside from helping Sam that Dean didn’t regret about this job.

A shiver ran through him, as a cold draft burst through the room.

_ Cottage could do with better weather proofing though _ . He would look through the spell books after Sam fell asleep to see if he could find anything to help. After all, if he couldn’t keep Sammy warm, then staying here wouldn’t really be the solution Dean had hoped it would be.

It didn’t take long for Sam to fall asleep. He nearly finished the stew, and had eaten all the bread. That was a good sign. It was more than he had eaten yesterday. Dean collected the bowl before it could fall to the bed and spill the remainder of its contents on the blankets and, after first making sure Sam was as comfortable as could be, quietly left the room.

After taking care of the remainder of their meal, Dean stepped to the last room at the end of the hall. The one that had been set up as a wizard’s workroom. With a couple of muttered words, “ _ Maj lucem _ ,” the enchanted lights came on and he strode over to the desk next to the bookshelf. With a second, muttered word, Dean closed his eyes and let his fingers drift over the spines of the other magician’s books.

His fingers closed on the oldest one there, brown leather and worn gilded corners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lenire tussim paululum dolorem facere rectum pluvial = Soothe the cough, ease the pain, make him right as rain
> 
> Maj lucem = mage light
> 
> NOT OFFICIAL ART!!!  
> I only drew this because my Beta was getting confused about the size of the place and where everything was. This map is not to scale, and was just a quick marker doodle I sent to her and later to my artist.
> 
> if the cottage looks a little oddly laid out / nonsensical, there's actually a reason that gets vaguely touched on much later in the story. 


	2. Not As Alone As You Think

Dean woke sluggishly the next day to the sound of something banging. He blinked groggily, realizing slowly that he’d fallen asleep at the workstation again. Suddenly more awake, he frantically looked down at the book he’d been sleeping on, afraid that he might have drooled and smudged the ink in the process. He let out a sigh of relief to see the words undisturbed. Dean put a marker in the book and closed it gently and got up, missing the small, pure white bloom sitting on the corner of the table that hadn’t been there the night before.

First and foremost, he went to check on Sam. Finding his brother sleeping, Dean decided to leave him be. Instead, he headed for the kitchen and filled the kettle with water from the pump and hung it over the fireplace, tossing a couple of extra logs in to stoke it up.

The banging still sounded, but it wasn’t the door, and it wasn’t from inside the house. It was rhythmic, even and hypnotizing. After setting the kettle on the hook, Dean detoured to look out of the window. He saw Benny, shirtless, chopping wood.

A vision of vivid blue eyes flashed across his mind, dark hair and a deep voice. He shook his head.  _ Where had that come from? _ Was it remnants from a dream he’d forgotten? Even knowing he was alone in the kitchen, he looked around guiltily, as if someone would guess his secret.

Benny had blue eyes, but the vision he had…it wasn’t the same. Dean frowned and turned away from the window. He had a vague, niggling feeling that he knew where the vision had come from, that he knew who those brilliant, unearthly blue eyes belonged to, if he could just  _ remember _ . With a sigh, Dean set about making breakfast and a soothing herbal tea.

That was another great thing about living in the cottage, despite how uneasy Crowley made him feel about being there. He didn’t know about other homes, but this one had spelled rooms. There was a walk-in pantry just off the back of the kitchen that had a section spelled to keep things cold. As well as an indoor toilet, spelled to take away the waste and leave no smell to waft into the house proper. There was a tub sharing the same room, large enough even for the likes of Sam and it had its own pump, bespelled to give hot water when wanted.

Dean had maybe indulged in that a little too often since he’d come to live here with Sam. The luxuries were amazing.

Taking both mugs in hand, Dean went to check in on Sam again. He was still sleeping so Dean left the mug beside him on the table and muttered, “ _ Fermentum, _ _ ” _ waving his hand over it. That would keep it warm till Sam woke up.

His own mug in hand, Dean decided to go outside and talk to Benny. Benny was friendly enough, though nearly as quiet as the rest of the villagers. Maybe he could pump him for information. If he could get him to talk, that was. Dean wondered how long it would take to get the villagers to open up and relax around him and Sam.

Dean shivered slightly despite the unnaturally warm sun of the morning. It was nearly mid-September and it should have been a lot colder in this part of the world. Dean’s weather sense—developed from years of living on the road and in the open—said winter would be bad. Which meant this warm weather was out of place and that worried him.

Benny paused as Dean approached, giving Dean a wary look and a nod before resuming the arcing swings of his axe to chop the cottage’s wood supply.

“Hey-a Benny,” Dean called out, staying well back from Benny and his swinging axe. No response. As usual. Straight to it then. “I was wondering if you could tell my why no one around here will talk to me unless they have to? ‘Cause, y’know, it’s hard to hold a conversation if the other party won’t talk back.”

This time, instead of pausing, Benny stopped completely and rested the axe on the ground, the wary look still on his face but now it was tempered with curiosity. “No disrespect intended, Master Winchester.” Dean winced at the combination of title and surname but daren’t stop Benny, not now that he had finally opened his mouth. “But why?”

“What do you mean, why?” That was not the answer Dean had expected, but at least it was something.

“Why do you want to talk to me? To any of us?” Benny asked, then rushed to add, “Master Winchester.”

“Simply put, Benny, my brother and I are looking to settle down somewhere, put in some roots, permanently. Now you tell me, how can we decide in favor of Canisbay if we can’t make friends? I don’t know if you have any brothers, but there’s only so many times I can have the same argument with mine without going crazy,” Dean said with a wry sm ile, allowing just the  barest hint of an upward curl of the lips on one side of his mouth.

Benny snorted, relaxing somewhat. Dean did an inward jig in finally getting a reaction out of someone in the town.

“You sayin’ yer lonely?” Benny asked with some disbelief coloring his tone.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. What? We’re wizards, sure, but we’re still people.”

“Master Winches—“

“Dean, please,” Dean said with a sigh.

“I can’t call you that, it would be disrespectful,” Benny said, his eyes wide.

“Isn’t it more disrespectful to ignore my wishes? And I’ve asked to be called Dean.”

“I don’t understand— none of the other wizards ever felt that way,”  Benny said with a confused frown.

“Now see, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Could we go inside?” Dean asked, holding his breath to see Benny’s reaction.

“I…uh…” Benny’s wide eyes darted to the cottage and back to Dean. He swallowed and gave a nod with more confidence than he really felt, if Dean didn’t misread him. Together they walked to the door. Just before they crossed the threshold Benny spoke up again. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you at all. None of us are.”

Dean stopped on the stone in front of the door and whirled to face Benny, causing the half-naked man to step back in near alarm.

“Now why is that?” Dean asked with some heat before he noted Benny’s reaction. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, it’s just. Now it’s my turn not to understand, though it explains the behavior of nearly everyone I’ve tried to talk to this week.”

“The chief—I mean Crowley—he said we shouldn’t,” Benny said, shifting uneasily in his place, “Said wizards would take offense if we acted too familiar. ‘Sides, no wizard’s ever stayed longer’n a year. What’s the point in bein’ friendly?”

“How many wizards have lived here?”

“Lost count. Ever since Chief Crowley took over the village, and old Missouri passed away, it’s like we been cursed. Which Crowley said was just stupid superstition. Said we couldn’t keep a wizard because we’re too poor to offer any of ‘em enough to stay on permanent.”

Dean barked out a laugh and turned away to open the door, muttering just loud enough to be heard, “Well, that’s a lie.”

“Excuse me?” Benny nearly growled. His back to the villager, Dean grinned. Good, he didn’t get the impression Benny was an easily cowed man and he wanted to talk to an equal. Still, from the little he knew of them, villages and small towns were really close-knit communities and he’d just called one of Benny’s fellows a liar. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter, he should tread carefully.

“I’ve lived on the road all my life. I was born on the move, my parents died in the wilderness. Dad was a hedge wizard and mom was an herb witch, neither of them were strong enough to be accepted into any schools, much less qualify for the Trials. So the type of work they could find was never enough to support the four of us, meaning we were always on the move. I’ve seen a lot of places, Benny, poor and rich and in between, and this might not be a bustling city, but it is by no means as poor as Crowley is making it out to be.” Dean stepped through the door as he spoke and felt a chill run down his spine.

It was too warm outside for it to be this cold indoors. He glanced over at the fire in the front room. He supposed he could add another log, but it still didn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t need all three of the fires going in such a small space. He and Sam had kept open caves warmer than this with only one fire. Something was wrong with this cottage.

“Look Benny, I know plenty places poorer than Canisbay who can afford a permanent wizard. If they don’t have the money, they work it out in trade, like Crowley’s done here. He’s not paying us anything. But for the first time in our lives, my brother and I have a roof over our heads that isn’t temporary and our time freed up by you and the others coming out here to do chores for us, lets us concentrate on our job and our studies and things. We have a chance to make friends, start a family. It’s all we need. All we ever really wanted. And it’s enough. We’ve been lonely…” Dean finished with the fire and then looked at a stunned Benny who stood there, holding his hat in his hands. He must have taken it off when he followed Dean in the house. Dean nodded at the wall, and Benny turned and looked at the hooks for a moment before hanging his hat up on it, then reaching down to pull his shirt back on, covering his sweaty chest and—Dean shook his head. Right…”Just, if you could tell everyone that it’s perfectly safe to talk to us—that we  _ welcome  _ it—we’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Master Dean,” Benny agreed with a firm nod, following Dean into the kitchen and gingerly taking a place at the table. Dean rolled his eyes but left it alone. They’d already made a lot of progress and he wasn’t about to risk undoing any of it. He had other questions.

“You said you’ve had a lot of wizards come through here and they never stay?”

“Yep. Like I said, never more’n a year. Sometimes even less. They just up and take off for better offers. So we been told.”

“They never tell you they’re leaving? They’re just gone?” Something was going on in this town, Dean was  _ sure _ of it now, no matter what Sam said. It just may be that most of the people here had no idea what was going on.

“Nah, they’re just gone one day, and Chief tells us they left because they found something better than we had here.” Benny nodded thankfully when Dean set a stone mug of hot tea in front of him, taking his own freshly topped off mug and sitting across from the burly man.

“So what happened to the last wizard?” Dean tried to make the question nonchalant, didn’t want to raise Benny’s suspicions. Dean heard a shuffle from the hall and knew Sam was listening.

“How do you mean? He left, same as the others,” Benny answered.

“No, he didn’t,” Dean said before he could stop himself.

Benny looked unnerved. “Why do you say that?”

“Because no wizard would leave his spell books behind willingly.” Sam’s voice came through the door weakly. Dean looked up to see his brother leaning heavily on the door frame, the blanket wrapped about him like a cloak and held closed with one hand. He coughed into his other hand and Dean jumped up to help him to sit.

“By the Gods, is he all right?” Benny half stood in his seat uncertainly as Dean moved around him and helped Sam to a seat. Sam tried to wave him off but Dean wouldn’t hear of it.

“I’m fine,” Sam managed around a cough, “I’m  _ fine _ , Dean.”

“You should be resting,” Dean insisted.

“I’ve  _ been _ resting. I needed to stretch my legs. Also, I’m hungry,” Sam said sullenly, his mouth drawn down in a pout and his eyes wide and innocent.

Dean laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good, that’s good! That’s a good sign, Sammy. You just sit there and I’ll get you something to eat.”

Benny slowly sat back down as he watched the interaction of the wizarding brothers. He hadn’t properly met Sam before, and Dean saw understanding cross briefly over his features, followed by sympathy.

“The books are personal, too closely linked to a wizard's’ power to just leave behind. You can trust me on that, both of us.” Sam brought the conversation back around as everyone settled into the kitchen. “Something happened to your last wizard. We just haven’t figured out what, yet.”

“I thought you didn’t ascribe to my theories, Sam,” Dean called from the fire.

“That’s not true, Dean. I agree something happened, I just don’t think you’re right on  _ who _ was responsible for it,” Sam argued right back. At least being sick wasn’t killing his spirit.

Benny looked between the brothers and asked, “Why, who did you think…? What do you think happened? How do you really know he’s… he’s dead and not just gone?”

“Well, Dean thought someone might have overpowered him, but I don’t think it’s that simple.” Sam coughed into his hand again, just in time for Dean to set a plate and mug before him, coming to sit at the table himself.

“Like we said, he left his books. Which means  _ something _ happened. Crowley couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell us anything either, only that he died under mysterious circumstances he didn’t understand.”

“We assume he said that to impress upon us how important the job was and why he needed us on hand so quickly!’ Sam interjected. Dean nodded.

“So we scryed for him.” Dean watched Benny closely. It didn’t escape his noticed that Benny caught the fact that his chief had told  _ them _ something different than he’d told the villagers, and now Benny was frowning.

“Dean scryed, I watched,” Sam clarified.

“What’s that? Scryed, I mean?” Benny asked.

“Scrying is—well, think of it as following a magic trail, you know how huntsmen track animals? We can do that with magic if there’s enough traces left behind,” Sam said around a mouthful of the sandwich Dean had made him. 

“And with  everything that wizard owned still in this house, there was plenty to use for tracking,” Dean continued. Dean blinked and considered the shock of everything they were telling Benny and decided to give him something to fortify himself with. Dean quickly rose and searched for a fresh mug as he talked, filling it with liquor and bringing it back to the table. “An d what I found, Benny, was a grave, maybe a month or so old? About a mile into the forest. What I couldn’t figure out was how, why or who. That forest is drenched in too much old magic to be able to pull out individual…scents. I almost lost the grave, it was so dense.”

“So, something killed him?” Benny’s eyes were wide again. Dean nodded and pushed forward a different mug. “But  _ why _ would the Chief tell us Castiel left if he was  _ dead _ ?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to scare anyone?” Sam offered uncertainly.

“I know this is a bit of a shock. Have a drink,” Dean nodded at Benny and then down at the mug and back up . Hands reaching out automatically, Benny picked it up and sipped it. His eyes went wide again, probably at the realization that this mug held a drink quite a bit stronger than tea. Dean watched as Benny looked down at the contents of the mug and threw it back, draining it all in a few quick gulps.

“Why are y ou telling me all this?” Benny asked.

“Well, you come out here often, right? Doing specific chores around here?” Dean asked. Benny nodded. “Right, well, we might need someone we can trust to help us figure this out. You know everyone here better than we do. And you can tell us more about the last wizard. What was he like? What was his name? Did you say it was Castiel? Where did he come from? Surely, if he was here for a year you spoke at least a little, despite Crowley telling you not to?”

Benny nodded guiltily. “I did, we did. Castiel—yes, that was the last wizard—he was a good man. There was something about him that made you want to talk to him, to trust him. He had this weird thing for bees, and it was him that started that garden out back. I’ve never seen flowers like he had growing in there.” Benny stopped. “He was quiet, mostly kept to himself, didn’t really venture down into the village, which made it easy for most of us to follow Crowley’s instructions. But he never got angry at anyone, even when Jess broke one of the mugs.”

“That explains the mismatched set,” Dean said quietly, before raising his voice. “So, uh, what did he look like?”

Sam shot him a sharp glance from around his sandwich and Dean just looked away and shrugged, mouthing,  _ “What?” _ at his brother.

“Ah, he had dark hair, brown I think. It was always messy and he had a scruffy face, a deep voice and blue eyes. Not like mine, they were brighter, I think. I always thought they were a mite unnatural, to tell the truth. His clothes were more formal than yours and – no offense – in better repair, and he was about your height, I think.” Benny nodded at Dean. “Can’t rightly remember now, but I’m sure he was shorter than Sam.”

Dean held his breath at the description –  _ blue eyes, deep voice, half remembered visions and sounds— _ he’d been thinking of those same things when he woke that morning. Had he dreamed them? How— _ why? _ —would he have dreamed of the previous occupant?

Why was the cottage colder than it should have been?

_ By all that was holy... _ The magician, this Castiel, he was still there. A ghost. That  _ proved  _ that something happened. Ghosts were not exactly common, but the ghosts of  _ wizards _ even less so. Wizards only became ghosts when they were murdered.

Dean clapped his hands together and forced a smile onto his face, rising from his chair and startling the other two men. “Well Benny, thanks for your help! We should really let you get back to your work though. I know you and the others take time out of your own days and your own chores to assist around here and I don’t want to make your day any longer.”

Dean rounded the table and Benny slowly stood, confusion clouding his face. Dean slipped an arm around Benny’s shoulder and walked him out, leaving a stunned Sam behind. “I really hope you come back to talk any time you want. I meant what I said. Just, there  _ are _ two exceptions to the anytime rule—don’t ever interrupt if we’re chanting or standing inside—or near—a magic circle. Some spells can get rather dangerous if they’re not cast properly and we wouldn’t want it to backfire on any of us.”

They got to the front door and Dea n realized what he was doing. He hurriedly took his arm away from Benny who still just looked confused, frowning as  he reached for his hat, slipping it back on his head.

“Wait.” Dean placed a hand on his arm. “Um…I want you to wear this if you have to come inside the house, okay? Sam and I will make more for anyone else who comes inside on a regular basis and we’ll leave extras out here on a hook, okay? So let everyone know.” Dean reached around his neck and took off the horned charm Sam had made for him when they were boys, the charm that was meant to keep Dean safe—Sam had one like it that Dean had made in return. Charms like that worked better if you made them for someone else, and it was the first thing either boy had made with their magic powers.

“Is there something wrong?” Benny finally ventured.  H e took the necklace, biting his lip with worry .

“Not sure yet. I’m just playing it safe, all right? It’s probably nothing. But it won’t hurt to have that in any case.”

“All right then. Thank you, Dean.” Benny nodded, slipped the charm over his neck and left the house. Dean closed the door firmly behind him.

“ Oh gods, no. No, no, no...this is  _ not  _ good,”  he muttered as he slumped against the door.

“Dean? What’s going on?” Sam had lumbered from the kitchen and managed to follow Dean and Benny to the front of the little cottage and now he clutched at the door frame. He shivered, having left the blanket behind. “Dean! Where’s your amulet?”

“Gave it to Benny.” Dean wiped down his face and frowned. “That wizard’s still here, Sam. I’m sure of it. I think I called him back when I was scrying for him.”

“Well that’s not good,” Sam said before breaking into a coughing fit likely brought on by the excursion from the kitchen.

“Don’t you think I know that? We need to ward the house. And make more charms. Where are your warding books? Tell me, but then you need to go back to bed.”

“I can go to bed later. Set me up in the work room, I’ll make more charms and you can do the physical stuff, painting the wards onto the walls. I’ll be fine.” Sam coughed again, giving lie to his words.

“No! You shouldn’t be spending any more energy!” Dean pushed away from the wall and stalked towards his brother, waving his arms as he spoke. “Physically or not, you’re going to exhaust yourself with those charms. I’m pretty sure your magical reserve is the only thing keeping you going right now.”

“How sure are you of that? Because neither one of us are very good at healing magic,” Sam countered.

“Sure enough,” Dean growled, helping his brother back down the hall.

“At least let me make two charms. You need to have one Dean, and we need one for whichever of the village women are due today,” Sam insisted. “I promise, as soon as I finish them, I’ll huddle up in bed again and I won’t even make a peep for the rest of the day.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Dean.”

“Fine,” Dean said with a resigned sigh, passing the door to the bedroom and guiding his brother into the workroom. He sat Sam down at the table near the fireplace and checked on the fire. “Okay, standard protection charm?”

Sam nodded and Dean searched out his supplies, bringing them to his brother and setting them on the table. He headed back to the shelf Sam had claimed for his books. Compared to the last magician's library, Sam and Dean’s together couldn’t measure up. But they made do. “Which book am I looking for?”

“The white one, with the flaming star on the cover,” Sam said absently. Dean nodded and plucked the book off the shelf and settled down at the same table he’d used the night before. He made to carefully move aside the book he’d been looking through when he’d fallen asleep and that was when he finally noticed the small, white bloom on the corner of the table.

“Oh gods,” Dean breathed out, staring at the flower. It was delicate looking, with five soft, rounded petals on top and five skinnier, longer, pointier petals underneath the first set. Perfectly symmetrical. It would have been beautiful except…

Dean reached a shaking hand for the flower and gently picked it up, remembering Benny’s words about how the previous wizard had kept a garden. Dean had seen the garden, though most of the flowers were out of season, so he had no idea what most of the plants were. The wizard apparently had some exotic tastes, proven by the presence of a flower Dean was sure didn’t normally grow in this part of the world—in season or out.

He’d seen the like once before in their travels. The locals had called the flower a Columbine and it had come in all sorts of colors and several variations of shape. His mother had called it an Aquilegia and spoke of it in hushed tones, explaining that to a wizard, it held power, could open doors to other worlds. It had seemed like a bedtime story, too fanciful even for magic users to believe that a single flower could hold such power.

Dean wasn’t so sure anymore.

“What is it?” Sam called, worry lacing his voice. Dean slowly turned around, still staring down at the flower in his hand. He looked up and met his brothers’ hazel eyes. Sam recognized the flower, and looked at Dean nervously. It was obvious that he, too, was remembering their mother’s words. He swallowed and nodded, “Right, let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fermentum = Warm


	3. Ghostly Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be smut. Ghost Smut.
> 
> A Possible Warning for this chapter can be found in the end notes.
> 
> ::italics:: is dialogue from Cas. He's not actually talking out loud so I replaced quotation marks with :: My beta found that a little jarring, but I thought it needed a way to be differentiated from both normal conversation and internal dialogue.

Hours later, Dean lay exhausted in the tub, soaking his sore muscles in the piping hot water. Sam had done as promised and gone to bed after making the two protection charms and Dean had climbed all over the house painting sigils and wards into every wall, the symbols briefly burning and then vanishing into both the stone and wood of the cottage at a muttered spellword.

Eileen had stopped by today to bring the evening meal, but Sam hadn’t finished with the charms yet, so Dean asked her to stay outside, explaining that it was unsafe to step inside the house that day—wizarding business. Eileen had looked disappointed and after she left, Dean had teased his brother about the young woman over dinner (he knew better to interrupt another wizard, even on such a simple thing as a protection charm). When Sam wasn’t glaring at Dean, he was wilting, barely eating.

He didn’t even fight Dean when Dean tucked him into his bed with even more care than normal.

At least his coughing seemed to have eased and the spellwork hadn’t made Sam worse.

_ Sam. _

If things didn’t go horribly wrong in the next couple weeks, then Dean could count on some wooing being done. Dean hadn’t really ever thought about the fact that Sam might find someone and move on, leaving Dean all alone. He’d always worked towards their future with  _ them _ in mind, but Sam didn’t have his dirty little secret. Dean was destined to spend out the rest of his life alone. It was hard to find people like him without risking everything, and harder still to find people like Sam who wouldn’t judge him for his… _ tastes _ . He’d forever be on the outside looking in, watching other people pairing up and raising families together, while he would be stuck admiring from afar and hoping he wasn’t too obvious about it.

At least, with being a wizard, he could worry less about outright persecution. But if word got out, then Dean could kiss having any friends goodbye.

Heaving a sigh, he laid his head back on the edge of the tub, a dip and ledge carved out that seemed to fit him perfectly for just such a purpose. The steam rose thickly from the water—he’d waved his hand and muttered a spell word, different from the one he’d used on the mugs that morning, to keep the water hot for as long as he wanted to soak—and tried to relax into it.

Idly, he wondered about the previous magician, Castiel. He wondered if he was as handsome as Benny—Dean might have drooled once or twice at the sight of Benny shirtless, but he’d locked it up fast. He wasn’t about to try and find out if Benny might  _ like _ men…Dean had seen his bondmark. Benny was already taken.

When they’d first met Benny, Sam had found the energy to tease Dean about how the man was just Dean’s type. Dean had stammered and glared but hadn’t had the heart to end Sam’s teasing. It had been a sign that maybe he was feeling better and that taking the job here had been a good choice.

Benny was right in what he said earlier; Dean was lonely. His mind wandered back to what this Castiel might have looked like. Tall, dark and scruffy didn’t exactly tell him anything, but Dean daren’t ask Benny if Castiel was good looking or not. That would have given everything away. Dean shivered despite the warmth of the room.

Closing his eyes, he imagined blue ones, brilliant and sparkling. They were so vivid he realized they were the remnants of the dream he’d remembered on waking that morn. He imagined the dark, messy hair—Benny had sounded unsure of its color so Dean imagined running his fingers through hair so brown, so dark, that it looked black in certain light. Scruffy and unshaven, Dean thought of how it might feel against his face, his neck and he breathed out a shaky little puff of air.

The image was coming so easily, despite the limits of Benny’s words, but Dean didn’t question it as he moved his hands from the sides of the tub and rubbed them down his chest, pausing to pinch at his nipples. He hummed, gasping at a twist of his fingers, imagining strong, calloused hands with long nimble fingers in place of his own, running down his sides and back up over his stomach. He arched slightly, his limbs and body tingling with sensations, settling deep inside him. His member twitched, hardening—

And his eyes flew open with a startled and aroused gasp as something enclosed it, gripping it tight, moving down his shaft and up again. He jerked upright, staring down into the tub expecting to see someone’s hand but there was nothing. Nothing, but the sensation remained and it felt  _ so good. _

He whimpered as the pace increased and he arched again, his hips moving into the touch, his hands having flown to grip the sides of the tub with whitened knuckles to brace himself for each thrust upwards.

Dean cried out when something touched him  _ inside _ and white sparks appeared in his vision. Oh gods, what  _ was _ that? Why did that feel so… _ so good?  _ He groaned, drowning in  _ never before _ felt sensations, the warmth, the pleasure. In his limited experience with other men, he had  _ never _ felt like  _ this _ . “Oh, sweet holy-!” he gasped.

Warmth encased him. He felt as if someone had wrapped themselves around him. Phantom hands stroked him everywhere, and it was too much, all too much. His head dropped back and he gasped and groaned. The touch inside him moved as well, and with every movement it hit something deep within him just right making him cry out in ecstasy.

Dean’s movements grew frantic as he chased the pleasure. The steam curling around him nearly coalesced into a shape, but he was too lost in the hot feeling to notice. No longer wary of what was happening, nor frightened, he embraced it, calling out, “Please, please… _ oooooh… _ oh  _ gods... _ ”

His vision exploded and he squeezed his eyes shut tight, his body arching up out of the tub with a wail as he came. Boneless, heedless of the danger, he dropped back into the tub, his head set to crack on the ledge of it until something caught him and lowered him gently, wrapping around him warmly. A low voice whispered in his ear,

_ ::I have you, Dean. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let go…:: _

Dean passed out, still blissful, still warm, the pleasure still sending aftershocks through his body. A smile graced his lips, small but there as he sank into the warm embrace, the soothing croon of a gravelly voice.

Dean woke to pounding for the second time that day. The pounding this time was of a different timber than that morn, frantic, closer…

“Dean! Dean, are you…” Sam’s voice barely made it through the closed, wooden door as he stopped to cough, proof that he’d exerted himself too much in his worry for his brother. “Is something wrong? I heard you scream!”

The door handle jiggled but didn’t open. Dean scrambled to his feet, splashing half the contents of the tub to the stone floor, the ghostly presence suddenly gone, leaving him feeling slightly cold despite the heat of the room. Unconcerned with his nakedness, Dean lunged across the small chamber to grab the doorknob and yanked.

He nearly fell under the sudden weight of Sam who’d been leaning heavily on the door. Dean caught Sam and staggered, but before Dean could hit the ground, that ghostly presence caught him by the shoulders and steadied him.

“Sam? Sam? Gods, Sam, are you okay?” Dean tried to twist around to see Sam’s face, but he wasn’t answering. The taller man had exerted himself too much in his effort to get to Dean and passed out, becoming pure deadweight. Dean blanched at the thought as he struggled to get a better grip on his brother so he could carry him back to bed, a word ready on his lips to make his burden lighter, easier.

Before he could utter the word, the weight of Sam eased to that of a feather and Dean found it all too easy to carry Sam like a child into the bedroom and tuck him back into bed. Only noticing afterwards that he was still stark naked.

He daren’t leave Sam, though. If Sam didn’t reassure himself that Dean was just fine, he might – no he  _ would _ get right back up out of that bed and go looking for Dean again. So here Dean would have to stay until Sam woke. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his short hair, longer than he wanted it to be, and looked around for something to dry off with, and something else to wrap himself in.

There was little to no privacy while out on the road and not much more of it in a place as small as this. Sam and Dean had to work to give each other the privacy they wanted, which meant they’d seen each other naked more times than they could count.  It shouldn’t bother them, but it did bother Dean a lot, and he didn’t want to be naked when Sam woke.

Finding a spare blanket, he curled up on the chair he’d dragged into the bedroom the first night they’d spent there and wrapped himself tightly in the warm, soft folds and waited.

Waited and thought.

There was nothing else to do while Sam slept, except think about what had happened in the bath. Gods, that was just, it was surreal. It had to be the ghost. But why had it… _ how  _ had it…? Dean blushed as he realized he must have called attention to himself when he had envisioned the magician touching his body. The ghost must have taken it as an invitation.

Not that Dean hadn’t enjoyed it but having a ghostly lover wasn’t…wasn’t normal. And Dean would already be abnormal enough in society’s eyes if they ever discovered his secret. He took a shuddering breath. Shouldn’t the wards have prevented anything like this from happening? The wizard must have been strong in life to overpower the wards and manifest so strongly.

Or Dean hadn’t done the wards properly. He supposed that was possible. The glyph drawn magic was Sam’s strength, not Dean’s, just as spoken magic, both the cantrips and the bigger spells, were Dean’s strength.

But what if there  _ was _ nothing wrong with the glyphs? Then that meant the ghost was powerful. And if he was this powerful in death, what had he been like in life? Which begged the question…

What had killed him? And would whatever killed the last wizard—and Dean suspected, many others as well—be after him and Sam?

A cough drew Dean’s attention back up and towards the bed where his brother weakly clawed at the blankets tucking him in. Sam shot up in the bed, causing himself to cough even more, making ready to toss off the blankets and swing his legs down off the bed.

“Sam, lay back down. I’m all right.” Dean struggled to stand and keep the blanket wrapped tightly enough around himself that nothing would show. Sam’s head whipped up and his gaze fell on his elder brother, his shoulders slumping in relief.

“You scared the hell out of me, Dean,” Sam managed around more coughing.

“Well, I’m fine and you need to go back to bed. Let me get dressed and I’ll get you one of the herbal teas you like. I’ll add some honey for your throat. Would you like that?” Dean managed finally to approach the bed without losing his makeshift cloak and he eased Sam down, propping him up slightly on his pillows.

He stepped away but Sam’s hand came out and caught his wrist, “Dean, what happened? And don’t you dare lie to me.”

“It was…just some private me time, okay Sammy? Can you let it go?” Dean’s face was red and he wouldn’t look his brother in the eyes. There was no way he could tell him what the ghost of the magician had done, or how much he’d liked it. Sam was accepting of so many things, but there was no way he wouldn’t get upset over this.

Sam still eyed him suspiciously, but he let go of Dean’s wrist and Dean pulled away, stalking stiffly out the door and back to where he’d left his clothes. Dressing quickly, he laid the blanket across a few chairs and dragged them a little closer to the kitchen fire to dry it out. He refilled the kettle and set it to boil, preparing Sam’s favorite herbal tea.

He turned to place the handmade tea bag into the mug when he saw a different one already sitting inside the glazed stone, another of those white, star pointed flowers beside the mug. He took an involuntary step back, the tea bag he’d just made dropping from nerveless fingers.

Breathing hard at yet more evidence of the ghostly wizards’ presence, Dean reached out a shaking hand to wave it over the innocent looking teabag. “ _ Revelabit _ ,” he whispered, his voice shaking nearly as hard as his hand.

The spell revealed nothing harmful. Now curious, he decided to try it and see what Sam thought. He picked up the tea bag he’d dropped and placed it on the counter, going to the pantry to look for the honey. He’d been amazed at the variety of honey the cottage had been stocked with when they arrived a week ago, but if Benny were to be believed, the previous wizard had liked bees. Castiel probably had something to do with the abundance of honey there.

And that was turning out to be a good thing.

Dean returned to the kitchen in time for the kettle to finish boiling and he quickly made the tea, finishing it off with a generous dollop of honey, after which he carefully taste tested it himself, blowing on the liquid in the spoon. Not bad. Though he was no connoisseur of tea. Sam would be the real test. Him and his cough.

Sam was drifting when Dean returned but he woke easily to the light shake on his arm. He eagerly took the mug and didn’t wait for it to cool down. Sam had a remarkably high tolerance to both hot and cold normally, and it was something Dean occasionally envied.

“Hmmm…Dean, this is brilliant. What did you use?” Sam hummed contentedly, draining the mug faster than Dean would have believed.

“Nothing spectacular, little of this, little of that.” Dean shrugged, not wanting to admit he didn’t know what was actually in the tea. The spell he had used was limited in its range.

“Could I have more?”

“Of course you can, Sam,” Dean beamed. He grabbed the mug and ducked out of the room and back into the kitchen, preparing a second cup from the still warm kettle and the same tea bag. After he put in the last touch and stirred the tea, Dean closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He could have sworn he felt a kiss on his cheek, a brush of lips to his ear as a voice answered him back,  _ ::You’re welcome.:: _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revelabit = Reveal
> 
> WARNING:  
> it is also the chapter with the somewhat/maybe dubious consent. Cas participates in Dean's fantasy, but Dean's all for it (though Cas has a freak out later)


	4. In the Ether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas POV contains some overlap with Dean's tub scene

_ He floated in endless darkness, weightless, disconnected. Something tickled him, jabbed him, pulled him in one direction, then another, unseen winds buffeted him about the featureless landscape. _

_ A light appeared on the horizon, faint at first, but growing brighter, closer. He was drawn to the light, and suddenly he was floating no longer but flying, diving towards the speck. The speck enlarged, warped and twisted invitingly, calling. Something yanked at him, stopping his progress. _

_ Howling, he clawed toward the light. He had to get out of here, had to leave. This was his only chance to avoid oblivion. To remember who or what he was. With sudden strength, he surged forward, falling into the light – _

_ And tumbling out the other side. _

_ There was nothing there but trees and grass and rocks and a green ribbon of light snaking away from an unremarkable mound of dirt. The green ribbon was fading and he knew, somehow, that he had to grab hold of it fast before it was gone. It was his only chance. _

_ His chance at what? He couldn’t remember. _

_ That didn’t matter now. He grabbed hold of that ribbon and let it draw him in, let it draw him down a spiraling, twisting path as it sped its way out of a dark forest and into daylight, pulling back across a field. _

_ There was a cottage in his sight now, getting closer and closer. It looked familiar, in a vague way. Why couldn’t he remember? The ribbon pulled him along effortlessly, but when he saw the great, stone wall of the cottage, he balked and tried to pull away. He was stuck though and in terror, they rushed the wall—this was going to hurt, he knew, though he couldn’t remember  _ **_how_ ** _ he knew—but then it didn’t hurt. _

_ Instead of slamming into the wall and stopping, the ribbon passed through the wall and so did he. The ribbon let him go on the other side as it snapped back into the tall man with dark blonde hair and green eyes. Green ribbon. Green eyes. That was significant, but he couldn’t recall why. _

_ Maybe if he watched Green Eyes, he’d figure it out. And maybe he could figure out what he was and what he was doing here. Where he had been and why he was so desperate to get away. _

_ He followed Green Eyes everywhere, testing himself as he did. Sometimes he could hear the words Green Eyes said, or that Hazel Eyes—another man, taller than Green Eyes—said. Sometimes, he could interact with the objects around him, other times he could not. It was frustrating, and he still hadn’t figured out who or what he was. _

_ He observed and tried to remember  _ **_anything_ ** _. Hazel Eyes—Sam he learned—was sick, weak and coughing. It worried Green Eyes—Dean, yes, that was his name—who constantly cared for him. _

_ He tried to reach out to Dean. After all, Dean had reached out to him first, had saved him from the dark place. Dean must be able to answer his questions. He found Dean was most receptive to his attempts to communicate while he slept. But he was unsure if Dean remembered anything from those dreams. He couldn’t tuck the man in when he fell asleep at the table, his face resting on the book, but he wanted to do something, give something to Dean to thank him for saving him, even if he still didn’t know from what. He stared at Dean, at the desk and the book, all the familiar seeming objects surrounding him, niggling at his nonexistent memories. _

_ Something floated to the front of his consciousness and he turned his attention to it, trying to make it solidify into something he could become more aware of, to make sense of. He concentrated hard but the memory dissolved. Instead, a flower bloomed on the table beside Dean’s head, unseen by him or Dean. _

_ He felt jealousy when he watched Dean looking out the window at the other man. He felt it even more when Dean brought the man inside, but when they started to talk… _

_ Memories bloomed, unfurled in his mind, his weakening grasp on reality strengthened as he remembered who he was. _

_ He was Castiel. Once a wizard, the youngest Novak, the youngest magician in his family. Newly minted wizard, this job in Canisbay had been his first post. He remembered Benny now, but he didn’t remember Dean or Sam. Why were they in his house? Why were they using his spellbooks? _

_ Feeling stronger and more aware, he hovered in the kitchen of the cottage that had been his and listened to the three men discuss events, reveal that he was dead. _

_ He was  _ **_dead?_ **

_ … _

_ That would explain a few things. _

_ Castiel looked down at himself as he floated around the house. He was bringing cold spots, he knew, that’s what ghosts did. But he wasn’t ready to move on. He’d been murdered. He needed to get his revenge. He needed to keep Sam and Dean safe. They were in as much danger as he had been. They didn’t know what had happened. How could he tell them? Castiel needed to find a way to connect that they would remember. _

_ Sam was too weak, but Dean… _

_ Oh, had he only met Dean when he was alive. If Castiel still had a body, he’d have sighed at the gorgeous sight of the wizard with green eyes. He continued to follow Dean around the house as he realized what the man was doing. Castiel panicked when he saw the ghost warding, recognizing it for what it was – _

_ And relaxed when he realized that Dean was drawing the last sigil incorrectly. A peek into the open book quickly showed why. Whoever had made this book had incorrectly copied the glyph down. As far as Dean or Sam knew, this was accurate. But Castiel had the corrected copy in his own library, so he knew it was wrong. He realized, then, that he’d had a narrow escape. If they’d used  _ **_his_ ** _ book instead, Dean would have succeeded and Castiel would have no chance to warn them! _

_ He trailed along behind Dean, trying to find a way to talk to him. Dreams had worked before, but Dean didn’t seem to remember them. Castiel needed to contact him somehow when he was awake. _

_ Frustrated, Castiel watched Dean strip for his bath. If Castiel had still had his body, his eyes would have gone wide, his pulse would have quickened and his mouth would have dropped open. Even without his body, he felt phantom twinges, pulses through his soul. _

_ Images pushed into his mind and he nearly blast apart at the contents, of Dean imagining  _ **_HIM,_ ** _ of Dean imagining Cas pleasuring him in ways Castiel had never had an opportunity – never quite felt a draw strong enough - to indulge in. Drawn to Dean by the yearning desire, Castiel couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t like Dean would be able to feel him anyway, right? He ran his ghostly hands over Dean’s body, over his chest and sides and lower still, under the water till he felt… _

_ Gods, Castiel wished he was still alive. Dean was gorgeous, he was compassionate and kind and loyal, capable of great devotion – the care of his brother showed  _ **_all_ ** _ of that – he was smart, and would have been Castiel’s equal. Then to find out the desires Dean had, that he kept hidden from the world, were the same that Castiel had hidden. _

_ This man could have been a partner for him in so many ways. But it had all been taken from him, the  chance at something he’d never dared hope for had been ripped away from him. _

_ And it could happen again. _

_ To Dean. _

_ Dean may yet die unless Castiel could do something. Dean  _ **_and_ ** _ his brother. And if Castiel failed, then at least he could give Dean some small pleasure before it was too late for them. _

_ Castiel still wasn’t sure how this ghost thing worked, but he felt more solid, more real than he had only moments ago. He slid behind Dean as he arced up into Castiel’s’ ghostly grip. Castiel murmured into his ear as he felt the sudden spike of fear mixing in with the arousal Dean felt. He reached with his other hand to prod below, to slip between Dean’s legs and…yes, there, Dean felt that, Dean  _ **_liked_ ** _ that. Castiel continued his movements, his words, watching in awe as Dean reacted to the ghostly touch. _

_ All too soon, it was over and Castiel had to catch Dean before he cracked his skull on the metal tub. He whispered reassuring words into Dean’s ear, promises to keep him safe and hoped he could make good on those promises. _

_ Dean lay in the tub, passed out from the bliss and Castiel wondered at what had just transpired. He’d connected to Dean in a physical way. He hadn’t believed that he would, hadn’t believed that his touch would be perceived and deprived of all other point of contact, he hadn’t been able to stop himself when he realized Dean could, indeed, feel him. It had been intoxicating. _

_ And depressing. _

_ Dean was beautiful. He was everything Castiel could ever want, and as a ghost, could never truly have. _

_ Castiel felt guilty. _

_ He felt horrible and horrified. Though Dean had clearly enjoyed it, the fact was that Castiel had intruded on his privacy, touched him without permission. Never mind that he couldn’t have asked for such permission. There had been that momentary spike of fear before it had washed away and Castiel felt so low, he could have sunk into the ground. _

_ Had he taken advantage of Dean? _

_ On the other hand, it did show he could reach out to Dean in some way. Castiel needed to concentrate on that. He needed to find a way to do so, with more innocent intentions (what he had done could never happen again, not without explicit consent from Dean – and that was never going to happen because how would he get it?), so he could warn the man and his brother before they suffered Castiel’s fate. _

_ Lost in his own thoughts, gazing at Dean’s sleeping face, Castiel nearly dissolved - almost dispersing into the frightening nothingness he became if he exerted himself too much, lost deeper in the ether between the worlds - at the sudden banging and yelling that came from the other side of the door. He watched as Dean leaped up, glorious in his nakedness and rushed to answer his brother. _

_ Castiel hovered, ready to help, and happily found he could when Dean stumbled under his brothers’ sudden weight. Here was something he could do without feeling guilt. He supported Dean, lessened the man’s burden. When Dean returned to the kitchen for the tea, Castiel cast about for something better for Sam then what Dean put together and was pleased when the man used it and Sam enjoyed subsequently it. _

_ And when Dean whispered thank you to seemingly empty air… _

_ Castiel nearly melted into the floor. _

_ He managed to hold himself together long enough to press a gentle kiss to Deans face and whisper “You’re welcome,” before he dissolved away to wherever it was he went in those in between times. _

_ Castiel was unsure how long he floated in that hazy in between of the dark realm he’d been trapped in before and the land of the living that he used to inhabit. But when he came to, it seemed at least several hours had passed and he felt strong again. _

_ Dean was once again in the workroom, poring over the same dusty book he’d plucked off the shelf the night before – at least, Cas thought it was the night before. The man yawned and rubbed at his eyes as he turned the pages. Castiel unsure how much Dean was seeing, how much he was really taking in in his current state. He wondered what Dean was looking for. If he knew, he could help. As Castiel watched, Dean nodded once, twice, then fell slowly, his head cradled on his arms atop the book. _

_ Casting about the room, Castiel found an old sleeping robe he’d left behind that had not yet been disposed of and he lifted it up, draping it over Dean's now sleeping form. _

_ For the second time, Dean mumbled thank you and Castiel felt happiness suffuse him, threatening to disperse his incorporeal form yet again. _

_ He watched Dean for a time, mesmerized by this man, this wizard. An equal to Cas had he been alive. Having had a peek, however unintentional, to Dean’s desires, Castiel couldn’t keep himself from wondering, longing. Would Dean have been amenable to a relationship? For his part, with everything he’d observed of the man so far, Castiel knew he would have wanted to pursue such with Dean. But would Dean have been as eager to face condemnation from fellow neighbors should they slip up? Would he think Castiel worth it? _

_ Castiel decided to distract himself from these saddening thoughts and patrol the house. After all, he knew the darkness that was out there. The darkness laying in the forest, held back only by flimsy sacrifice. If only they had told him what he was really facing in life. He was certain that he could have called in help and held back the real threat of the forest. _

_ He circled the cottage, whispering words and tracing ghostly sigils into every wall. He didn’t know if they would hold, if they would work, but he needed to try something until he could find a way to communicate better with Dean. _


	5. An Unexpected Guest

When Dean awoke the next morning, he peeled himself off the old book once again. Groaning from having fallen asleep sitting up for the second night in a row, he stretched, arching his back and pulling his arms down behind him in an attempt to pop his shoulders. No such luck. He needed to stop doing that.

Dean reached down for his place marker to find several more of the Columbines – still pure white, though Dean knew they came in other colors, some of them quite wild - lying beside the book again. He blinked. If last night was any indication, Dean would have to say he had a ghostly lover, that the previous wizard might even be courting him.

Maybe the flowers being the same Aquilegia his mother had spoken of was pure coincidence?

White often symbolized hope. It was often connected with purity. What was the ghost hoping for? Were his intentions pure? Dean nearly laughed at the thought, after what had happened the night prior. He was probably overthinking it all.

The one thing most lovers did when courting was to give flowers to their intended. Dean had a feeling that was all this was.

He closed his eyes against a pained throb. Just his luck. He found someone who wouldn’t run screaming that he was an abomination to all around them…and that someone was a ghost.

“Gods damn it,” he bit out, suddenly angry at the hand fate had dealt him. Dean opened his eyes and slammed the book shut. He went to push the flowers off the table into the bin beside it but his hand hesitated and faltered, falling back to his side. “ Shit,” he whispered, holding his face in his hands for a brief second, trying to compose himself before he left the workroom or worse, Sam came looking for him.

He stalked out of the workroom and into the kitchen to set the kettle going. It was early yet, the dawn just barely peeking through the windows. It was too early for Benny or Garth or any of the others to have shown up for the day's chores. They would probably be doing whatever it was they did at their own places first. It would be awhile before they arrived at the cottage.

However, after last night, Dean hadn’t expected to see Sam awake either.

Yet there he was, the kettle already going, two mugs set up on the counter and Sam sitting at the table reading, a blanket draped loosely around his shoulders, instead of tightly tucked in as it had been so often lately.

Blinking in the red light of dawn, Dean stood in the entranceway dumbly, staring down at his brother. A few more seconds, a minute of silence and Sam finally looked up. “You going to sit down anytime soon?”

“Uh, Sammy? How ya feelin’?”

“Much better. Still tired but, my throat hurts a lot less than it did. Whatever that was you put together last night, I think it did the trick,” Sam grinned.

Dean slowly sat down at the table and just stared. “Huh.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, “Huh what?”

“I didn’t make it.”

“What?” Confused, Sam sat up straighter and gave all his attention to Dean.

“It was the ghost,” Dean said. He had to tell Sam something, but damned if he’d tell him what happened in the bath. He flushed red and hoped the light of dawn disguised it.

“The ghost made my tea?” Sam said flatly, less a question than a statement of the obvious. The disappointed look on his brother’s face was all too clear to Dean, giving tone to the colorless words.

“Well, he um, picked out your tea. I checked it to make sure it wasn’t harmful but…I don’t actually know what he used. Hell, I wish I did. Seems like it’d be a good one to remember, yeah?” Dean fidgeted uneasily under Sam’s gaze.

“Dean, I thought you put glyphs around the house? The ghost should be rendered powerless!” Sam was now alarmed.  _ With good reason _ , Dean thought forlornly.

“Yeah, I did, but…maybe he’s stronger than the glyphs or something? Besides, I don’t actually think he wants to hurt us. He helped me carry you back to bed, kept me from falling when you landed on me…he’s  _ helping _ ,” Dean insisted.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice turned disapproving. “Ghosts are bad news, whatever their intentions or their previous lives. Too long in the ether between worlds, they go mad. They forget who they are and they’ll become destructive. You’ve got to get rid of it. You  _ know  _ this! _ ” _

“Not it, Sam,  _ him.” _

“Oh for god's sake…”  Sam sat back in his chair with a disbelieving look on his face. “I can’t believe you Dean, you know better.” He stood up and with much better energy than he’d had previously, though still slow, still stiff. He left the room and returned a few moments later, in time for Dean to place their morning tea on the table. Sam slammed a book down on the table. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, both of them froze.

The door to the cottage opened, and at the same time, their intruder alarms, keyed to the brothers, were set off. The wards they’d placed didn’t recognize whoever had entered as anyone they’d yet met.

“Cassie? You awake yet?” a voice called, male, with a jovial bent. Sam and Dean looked at each other, their fight forgotten as they got ready to face what could be a new threat. “Yo, Cassie, I brought mail from home.” The voice muffled as it ducked into the bedroom that Sam had been using. Dean was starting to get a bad feeling in his bones. The voice sounded friendly, familiar. The name it used was not familiar but it was…similar to that of their wizard ghost.

This wouldn’t end well, would it?

No sooner had Dean thought that, then the stranger popped into the kitchen next.  Dean was still sitting in his shock and Sam was standing but leaning heavily on the table, his hands on either side of the heavy book he’d dragged into the kitchen.

The stranger turned out to be a short, honey blond wizard with unusual gold eyes. He caught sight of the brothers and halted abruptly, dropping into a defensive pose, his hands coming up, his voice barking out, “Who in the blazes are you?”

“We could ask you the same question!” Sam countered before Dean could managed to open his mouth.

“Where’s my brother?” the wizard growled.

The sinking feeling in Dean’s gut hit bottom. Whoever this guy was, it had to be Castiel he was looking for. And he wasn’t going to react well to the news. “Hate to be the one to tell you, but if your brother is who I think he is, he’s dead.”

“Dean! You could have been a little less blunt…” Sam hissed across the table at his own brother.

“What? You wanted me to string him along? If you were dead, I’d want to know, straight out.” Dean made the mistake of taking his eyes off the stranger to look at his brother. Sam’s eyes widened in horror and his mouth opened, but he was too late to do anything other than utter a shapeless, spell-less word. They weren’t his strong suit anyway, but with Dean facing away from the intruder, Dean had less of a chance to react.

Dean leapt to his feet, whirling about and tripping over his chair in the process, only to find himself facing down a pissed off fire wizard. Dean backed up, trying to put enough space between him and the magician to get out a word of protection. He had half of it on his lips when a wind whipped up and tore through the room violently, ripping the fire out of the other man’s hand and extinguishing it. A ghostly form coalesced between Dean and the stranger.

It was the first time Dean had seen any form of the wizard’s ghost, and not just seen (or felt) the evidence of his presence. Dean froze again.

The stranger went white, staggering to a halt, “Cassie? Oh gods…you really  _ are _ dead…” he tipped, reached out for the table and sagged. Dean rushed forward to catch him as the stranger fell to his knees, choking out the words, “Oh, Cassie…I’ve failed you. This is my fault…”

The ghost knelt beside Dean and placed a hand on his brother's’ shoulder, the wizard looking up with an expression of guilt and grief, tears already tracing a path down his face.

Dean followed the stranger’s gaze to the ghost, suddenly realizing he could see Castiel’s face for the first time, and while there was no color to his form, he was gorgeous. The ghost looked from his brother to Dean and nodded and faded away, leaving his now grieving brother in Dean’s hands.

“C’mon.” Dean hauled the wizard to his feet and gently guided him to a seat at the table. He pushed over his untouched tea and the wizard reflexively grabbed it, simply staring into space. All too quiet, the tears still running.

“I…” The wizard wiped his face and sniffed, looking at Dean, who sat in a chair quietly before him, then to the other side of the table at Sam and back again. “How…?” His voice was broken.

“Look, I’m Dean, that’s my brother Sam. We’ve been here maybe a week or so, okay? We don’t actually know what happened to your brother. Castiel, right?” the stranger nodded silently at Dean’s question. “But we know something did. We’ve been trying to figure out what, but we haven’t exactly been at it long. Now, what’s your name?”

“Uh, Gabe—Gabriel.” His voice wavered before evening out. “That was him, wasn’t it? His ghost?”

“Yeah, couldn’t you see him?” Dean asked, surprised.

Sam shot him a sharp look. “Dean…”

Gabriel shrugged, staring between Sam and Dean. “Vaguely, very vaguely. I could…there was something there, a touch…but I couldn’t see  _ him. _ ”

“I saw nothing at all. Dean, what did you  _ see?” _

Dean blushed and wouldn’t look either of them in the eyes, “Well, I saw…I saw him. At least, I think it was him. I mean, I don’t know what he looked like before but he looked fairly solid for something that seemed made out of mist and light.”

“Right,” Sam muttered, opening the book and flipping the pages. He glanced at each one with a frown and muttering, he continued looking. “Aha!” his finger jabbed the page with a triumphant smile. He picked up the book and turned it around, slapping it back down on the table in front of Dean, jabbing at it again.

Dean looked down and Gabriel leaned over as well. “Spell of Banishment…what? Sam, I don’t think we should be that hasty. I think Castiel’s trying to tell us something. I think he’s trying to communicate.”

“By all that is holy…” Gabriel whispered, staring at Dean, “You connected with him…”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Dean grumped.

Sam gaped, then glared, “What the—You  _ connected _ with him? Dean, when did you—? Wait, what haven’t you told me…” he paused, then went white when Dean covered his red face and slumped down in his chair. “Oh my gods, do you mean…last night, when you were—Dean! With a  _ ghost?!” _

_ “Sam!” _ Dean dropped his hands, his face red now with both embarrassment  _ and _ anger, glaring at his brother for speaking so plainly in front of a stranger.

Gabriel looked between the brothers and started to howl. “Oh, oh, I wish you and Cassie had met while he was still alive…that would have been such a match…” His laughter became almost maniacal until he broke into sobs. Dean, glaring again at his brother, shot up and fetched the liquor he’d shared with Benny the day  before, pouring a generous portion out and shoving it at Castiel’s grief stricken brother.

Gabriel groped for it and gulped it down, still sniffling and hiccupping. He took a few deep breaths, then another. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped abruptly, staring at the book. Dean and Sam followed his gaze and they both jumped when they realized what they were seeing.

Though there was no breeze in the room, the pages were ruffling, turning, before finally coming to a stop near the end of the book. Exchanging dubious looks, all three bent forward to look at the new page. Dean’s eyes widened as he read and understood the words, Gabriel smiled and Sam blanched.

Sam looked at Dean and he shook his head vehemently, sending himself into a coughing spiral. He choked words out around the coughs, unwilling to wait for them to subside, “No, no way, Dean. Don’t you dare even consider this! The teaching of that spell is outlawed by nearly every wizarding circle in the  _ land!” _

“Nearly, but not all. What about our circle, Sam?” Dean didn’t look up at his brother as he stared at the spell, his teeth worrying at his lip.

“We don’t  _ have _ a circle. You know that  _ damn _ well .”

Dean didn’t argue, but it wasn’t exactly true. It was more like they’d created their own circle, learning from so many different disciplines across the land till they found the one that resonated with them and then running with it. And some might argue that the place that certified you as a wizard was your circle.

For most wizards, that would indeed be the case, because a practitioner undertook the Trials at the school he was taught. Sam and Dean never  _ had _ a school, so they’d had to find a place to undergo the tests. It was difficult for self-taught wizards to advance. Many had to commit to a place for years before they could be considered for the next step. Dean and Sam had been lucky to find the Shurley school.

“Wait, you two  _ are  _ certified wizards, aren’t you?” Gabriel’s voice held no condemnation, only curiosity. For that the Winchesters were grateful.

“Yeah, just certified two and a half weeks ago, at the Shurley school. Crowley wouldn’t have taken us on if we hadn’t passed the trials,” Dean declared proudly.

“Shurley, huh? Yeah, they haven’t banned this spell. But it’s not encouraged either. Still, I’m willing to give it a go.” Gabriel sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a wise idea,” Sam shot back, groping for his tea as he continued to cough. He managed a couple of swallows. “Dean, you can’t do this. We  _ need _ to banish the ghost.”

“I dunno, Sammy…” Dean swallowed against the lump in his throat at the idea of getting rid of Cas. Ghost or not, Cas had helped. And there was that incident in the tub the night before. Dean had been lamenting that Cas was dead and now…he was being presented with another option. How could he  _ not _ consider this?

“Dean! You can’t be serious—ghosts are dangerous!” Sam spluttered, only managing to repeat what he’d said before.

“I know that, Sam! But Cas is different! He’s done nothing but help since we figured out he was  _ here _ . How can we repay him by not even considering all the options?” Dean’s voice got heated and Gabriel’s eyes widened at Dean’s words. He stayed quiet, ready to weigh in if necessary.

“Oh my gods, you gave him a  _ nickname _ ? You’ve totally lost it, haven’t you?” Sam coughed again, the cough getting more and more violent and forcing him to stop talking. Dean was mad at Sam’s attitude, but he still hurried around the table to utter the easing spell. When Sam’s coughing finally calmed down again, Dean settled back in his chair beside Gabriel and spoke again, in a softer voice.

“Sam, you need to explain something to me. Why  _ shouldn’t  _ we use this spell? You’ve only told me no, not why. Far as I can tell, the spells are nearly identical. Just one word Sam, one word makes all the difference, so either spell should be as equally dangerous to the caster. They even have to be cast on the same, specific night. Lammas Night. Why shouldn't I do this?”

“Because it’s dangerous. Okay, technically neither spell is more dangerous than the other, they have the same risks but, if it works, there’s no guarantee that you’ll get the right ghost. Whatever ghost is in this house right now is the one that wants us to use that spell. What if it’s something bad? Something worse? Ghosts are dangerous but they’re not the only things that exist in the ether between worlds. It could be something  _ pretending _ to be his brother. And if we do this, we’ll only give it power.” Sam paused, then grinned triumphantly, “Besides, it’s a moot point. This isn’t your kind of magic, Dean. Which means, I’m the only one here who can cast this and I refuse.”

“I can cast this!” Dean protested.

“Dean, you couldn’t even get the ghost warding glyphs right, or else the ghost wouldn’t be able to do things like…like  _ this.” _ Sam waved his hand condescendingly and Dean shrunk a little in his seat. Gabriel sucked in a breath as he watched the brothers’ dynamics playing out.

Still, Dean persisted. “I don’t think we should just dismiss this out of hand. It…it feels right. Besides, in your current condition, I wouldn’t even consider allowing you to cast this spell. I can do it.”

“Current condition? What’s wrong with him?” Gabriel’s expression became at once thoughtful and suspicious, like he had an idea of what might actually be wrong with Sam.

“He hasn’t been the same since the trials,” Dean explained to Gabriel. “Weaker, easily tired, coughing all the time…he’s tried to hide it, but I’m certain I’ve seen him coughing up blood.”

“I’m feeling better, Dean, I swear,” Sam protested. “I could do this if I wanted, I just don’t think we should!”

“Where did you boys say you were certified?” Gabriel asked slowly, though Dean knew he’d already said.

“The Shurley School. Wait, is this their fault?” Dean leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes with a sigh. “Oh my…of all the schools you could have gone to. Why that one?”

“It was the only one that would allow self-taught wizards to take the trials. Why? What didn’t they tell us?” Dean knew it, knew something was wrong, those lying, stuck up…

“Sam’s trial hasn’t ended.” Gabriel dropped his hand, looking Dean in the eye.

“That’s not possible, we both have certifications, signed by the head wizard himself.” Dean couldn’t stop glaring at Gabriel.

Gabriel didn’t even flinch as he leaned in closer to Dean. “Yeah? Let me see Sam’s. Better yet, bring out both of them and compare them yourselves.”

“I will,” Dean retorted. He stamped into the bedroom and rummaged for the papers he’d been so proud to get, stalking back and slapping them on the table.

Sam immediately reached for them and set them side by side, all three men peering intently at the papers. 

Gabriel sighed dramatically. “Yeah, just as I thought.” He jabbed a finger at the bottom left corner, “Says provisionally. And it’s not on Dean’s.”

“What the hell? What does that even mean?” Dean asked angrily. “And how did you even know to look for it?” Now Dean was more than angry, he was suspicious too.

Sam deflated and sat back in his chair. “I’m not a wizard?” he asked, his voice dull, barely heard.

“Look, it doesn’t mean you’re not a wizard, it’s just…the Shurley school doesn’t only test a potential wizard for magic skills and knowledge. Every witch, wizard, magician and what have you that walks through the gates is being judged on their strength of character, their versatility, moral fiber. If there’s a—well for lack of better word, a character flaw, then you get this little stamp. It doesn’t mean you’re not a wizard, you wouldn’t have even gotten the stamp if that were the case, but it does mean you need to fix something and I hope you figure it out fast. Because you’ve been given a second chance, Sam. But what do you need to do? I don’t know. You either fix the flaw, or in the end, the trials kill you,” Gabriel explained sadly.

“What the hell?” Dean snarled.

Gabriel raised his hands defensively, “Hey, don’t blame the messenger. Besides, ask me how I know.”

Sam stared at the shorter man for a long moment. “Because it happened to you too?”

“You got it,” Gabriel tipped an imaginary hat at Sam. “Apparently, my character flaw was arrogance. Yours? I don’t know you well enough to even guess.”

“Great, so now we have two problems,” Dean grumped. “I need a drink.”

Dean stood and headed straight for the liquor he’d shared out only moments before. This time he just brought the entire bottle to the table, bringing along a couple of clean mugs for him and Sam. Pouring out a generous helping for all three of them, Dean pounded back the liquor and poured himself a second mug full.

“Easy there, Dean. That stuff’s not supposed to be drunk so fast,” Sam cautioned.

“Who cares?” Dean tossed back another mug and reached for the bottle. Sam pulled it away. Dean glared but let it go. “Okay, so we have Sam’s problem but no time frame, and we have Castiel’s problem  _ with _ a time frame. Actually, we have three problems.”

“Three?” Gabriel asked, sipping at his mug slowly. “What’s the third problem?”

“Cas is actually two issues by himself. Firstly, we have to decide which spell to use, and secondly, we have to figure out how he was killed and who did it.” Dean paused. “And why.”

“Hmmm, fair enough. I want to know that too. Soooo, we already know where Sam stands on the banishment issue. I’m in favor of the spell that does  _ not _ banish my brother. In fact, a point in favor—if we don’t banish my brother, we can ask him directly what happened. Just…keep that in mind. Since we have one for and one against, that leaves you, Deano, as tie breaker.” Gabriel took another calm sip, that calm obviously feigned.

“Wonderful.” Dean snorted. “And I have until Lammas Night to decide.”

“What night does that fall on in these parts?” Gabriel asked.

“Traditionally, it falls between the first of August and the first of September. But the season is running slightly later here, being a little warmer than it should be for this time of year. Looks like it’ll fall in mid-September this year,” Sam answered. Dean just nodded along.

“What day exactly?” Gabriel asked, “Since we sort of need to know that.”

Sam sighed and looked down at the table with a small frown. After a moment, he answered. “I’ll have to consult my charts. Excuse me.”

Sam stood, leaving Dean and Gabriel alone in the kitchen. Silence held court for a long while as Gabriel held his head in his hands and Dean took the time to think.

Sam wasn’t exactly wrong. In fact, he was very right and Dean knew it. Ghosts  _ were _ dangerous. They might not start off that way, but they always ended that way. Cas might be benevolent now, but he would turn. It was inevitable and nobody could know when that would happen. If Dean screwed this up, either spell, they could all be in for a world of hurt. And it would be another year before they could attempt either spell again.

Thing was, Sam wasn’t wrong about ghosts going bad, but he wasn’t necessarily right about how to fix it. Either spell would solve the problem. Each had the same toll on the caster. The spells were nearly identical, all except one word.

One word meant the difference between banishing Castiel forever or…

Or bringing him back to life.

What was the right thing to do?

Dean knew what he  _ wanted _ to do, but was it the  _ right _ thing? Had the ghost been courting him deliberately to influence his decision? It was obvious it had known of the existence of the second spell. He could have been grooming Dean all along. The moment in the tub could have been calculated.

How could Dean know?

A soft sound drew Dean’s attention back to Gabriel.

Gabriel. Castiel’s brother. Who knew you better than your own brother? If it was true for Sam and Dean, maybe it held true for Gabriel and Cas?

“What was Cas like?” Dean asked into the quiet abruptly, drawing Gabriel’s head up and out of his hands.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel countered.

“I mean, tell me about your brother. Describe him—not how he looks, but what he was like. His personality, what he liked. Sam’s right, the ghost that’s here could be something else looking to trick its way into the land of the living. How do I compare what I know of Cas to the ghost, when I know next to nothing?”

“Fair point,” Gabriel conceded. “I just, I don’t even know where to start. I mean, Cassie was smart, dedicated, loyal and kindhearted. He was brave and strong. But he was quiet too, reserved. He liked the simple life and he liked to help people. Someone once told me that Cassie had too  _ much  _ heart. I never saw how that could be a bad thing.”

“He sounds like a good man,” Dean said quietly. Good and handsome too. And quite dead. Unless he used the second spell.  _ Dammit, this wasn’t helping. _

“I always thought he was the best.” Gabriel snorted. “Even if he hated when I called him Cassie. Gods, Dean, he’s my little brother! If there’s a chance to save him, I gotta do it. If you won’t commit to it, I’ll try myself, even if it kills me. Wouldn’t you do the same for Sam?”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. Gabriel wasn’t wrong, but if it came to Sam, Dean already knew he wouldn’t be able to think about the situation and make an objective decision. He’d just do it. And Dean was sure that’s exactly where Gabriel stood right now. He didn’t blame the man either. He understood where Gabriel was coming from perfectly well.

Didn’t mean it was the best course of action.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t.

How could he decide?

It wasn’t fair! Dean didn’t want to hold the balance of someone’s life in his hands like this. It was pure hubris to go against the gods will. He was a mere mortal, what did  _ he _ know about the will of the gods? His thoughts continued to circle, making his head hurt.

Abruptly, he stood, startling Gabe. “I need some fresh air.” He left the kitchen and headed for the front room. Sam wasn’t in the bedroom when Dean passed, so he was probably poring over his charts in the workroom. Dean reached the door and grabbed a cloak from the wall, wrapping it about himself before stepping outside. It was cooler today than yesterday had been, finally showing a sign of the season.

He headed around the house to the back, finding the garden and sitting down on a low, wooden bench, roughhewn but well made. Dean ran a hand over the grain of it and wondered if Cas had made it himself or if he’d asked one of the villagers to make it.

Dean stared out at the dormant garden, at the few plants that were still flowering. They were arranged artfully, woven around other plants that would bloom in different seasons. It showed careful planning, with an eye towards the aesthetic, so that no patch was bare of color at any point.

As he watched, a flower bloomed on the closest vine—though Columbines, if Dean recalled correctly, didn’t even grow on vines—followed by a second, then a third and a fourth and more following along right behind it in slow procession. It was unnatural and yet so beautiful that he just stared, hypnotized as one by one, the petals opened and unfurled before his eyes.

“Cas…” he whispered. Dean could swear he even heard an answer.

_ ::Dean.:: _

“What do I do?” Dean’s words were whipped away by a gust of wind.

_ ::I can’t decide that for you, any more than our brothers can. I know what I would wish, but it is you who must decide.::  _ The words came stronger, unaffected by the wind, unheard by human ears. Dean didn’t know how he heard the dead wizard’s words, but figured Gabe and Sam had been right about the connection between them.

Dean fell silent after that, staring into the garden, lost in his own thoughts for hours before Sam came looking for him.

“Dean, are you all right?” Sam sat next to him on the bench and looked at Dean in concern. Dean tilted back to stare at the clouded sky and blinked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Dean sighed. “You figure out when Lammas Night is?”

“Well, good news and bad news…” Sam dithered. Dean rocked forward and turned to face his brother.

“Spit it out, Sam. We don’t have time to beat around the bushes,” Dean shot back grumpily.

Sam ran fingers through his long locks. “Well, the simple answer is tomorrow night.”

“That is simple enough. So…September 18 th then?” Dean asked. Sam nodded. “So how is that good  _ and  _ bad?”

“It’s good, because this will be over one way or another soon, but it’s bad because it doesn’t fall during the full moon this year,” Sam explained.

Dean shrugged. “I never depended on the moon for my spells anyway.”

“Yeah, but Dean, it lends strength to the caster. And this spell, it isn’t your type of magic, you’re going to need all the help you can get,” Sam said.

“Then I’ll cast it at the witching hour. That should help.” Dean stood.

Sam followed suit. “Of course it’ll help, but everything we can do to stack the deck in your favor would be best.”

“Then let’s go back inside and walk me through the spells.” Dean didn’t wait for Sam, but made his way back around the house. Sam struggled to keep up.

“Did you decide which one you’re going to use?”

“Not yet.”

“Dean! You can’t leave something like this till the last minute!” Sam huffed at the exertion Dean’s pace was forcing on him.

“Why not? It’s literally the same damn spell. All I gotta do is change one whole word. I’ll make my decision then.”

“You’re going to let instinct guide you?” Sam said, horrified, his lips curling back in distaste.

“Why not?” Dean shrugged. “It’s worked out well for me before.” Dean turned on his heels and stalked inside, leaving his brother staring after him in disbelieving, disapproving silence.


	6. Upon the Witching Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends part 1 and resolves the songs cliffhanger - but their story is just beginning!
> 
> I wound up doing LOTS of research through the course of this story. Not only did I use Latin for the spellwork (and some Enochion later in some lore they look up) to make the story look cool, i wound up looking up the meanings and usages for both gems and flowers and other things. If anyone actually uses gems and such, i'm sorry if i got anything wrong...

Dean stared at the circle with a calculating eye. Despite Dean’s protests, Sam helped set it all up. Dean had wanted to do it inside, in the workroom, as it was the kind of thing the room was built for, after all. However, Sam had insisted that for best results, it had to be outside and under the waning moon.

“Moonlight is important for the spell, Dean. And you’ll get too little in that room,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, but it’s going to be windy tonight. I can already feel it. That can do more damage—if the circle breaks…” Dean trailed off, knowing full well Sam knew already what he was saying.

“Then we make sure it doesn’t break,” Gabriel spoke up. The three men, wizards all, stood behind the cottage in the garden. “That’s the design you’re using?”

Dean looked back at the drawn-out circle, the cardinal points and intersections. It was simpler than he had expected it to be. But Sam had explained each line as he dragged his staff through the dirt, the staff spelled to easily dig into hardened ground for such a purpose. Dean had helped him create the tool of Sam’s trade but had none of his own. Sam was right. This wasn’t Dean’s strength.

This could go badly. Very badly, no matter which spell he chose.

“Sam?” Dean looked at his brother in question and Sam nodded.

“Yeah, this is it. Everything else is transitory. This is what needs to be drawn.” Sam gave it a firm nod.

“Are you sure? Every line is exactly in place?” Gabriel questioned.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sam snapped back.

“Good, then stand back,” Gabriel pushed up his sleeves and held his arms out, palms up. His fingers twitched and the ground rumbled. Dean stumbled back in surprise, reaching out to yank Sam back from whatever Gabriel was doing.

The rumbling changed to shaking and the brothers held on to each other to keep on their feet. Gabriel stood unaffected as the ground split and cracked, the circle breaking apart with each gap that appeared in the ground. Sam cried out, seeing all his hard work being destroyed, and lunged forward but Dean held him back.

“No, wait, I think I know what he’s doing,” Dean called out above the noise of grinding rock. Within moments, the pushing and moving of the earth stopped and when the dust cleared, Dean and Sam could see actual bedrock – granite, unless he missed his guess – raised just enough above the dirt where none had been before, though not enough to trip over.

And it was shaped like no bedrock he’d ever seen, a duplicate of Sam’s exact and painstaking design, every little curve and spike, right down to the last flourish.

“Wind is now the least of your problems. At least, where your precious circle is concerned. What else do we need?” Gabriel wiped sweat off his brow and flicked it away.

“Impressive,” Dean conceded. He recalled the display of fire the day previous and now this...“Elementalist?”

“Obviously, and illusions. Those are  _ my _ strengths, boys.” Gabriel’s voice was tinged with exhaustion.

Sam pulled out the book, loose papers filled with his notes tucked inside. “Right, at each cardinal point, you need a flame…” Sam paused and looked up. “Candle light is standard for this kind of spell but…if it’s going to get as windy as you say it is, they won’t stay lit.”

“No problem.” Gabriel snapped his fingers. “Elementalist, remember? You light the candle and I’ll keep them lit. Or, I’ll light the candles  _ and _ keep them lit.”

“Does that count?” Dean asked, placing the four thick, white candles, held in shallow bowls, at all four points.

Sam was looking back down at his notes and asked absentmindedly, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, this spell calls for only one castor…can he do that?” Finished laying out candles, Dean was looking over Sam’s shoulder, trying to get another look at the spell.

“Oh, well, yeah, that’s just prep work. It’ll be fine. Okay, next step—ah, Gabriel, we need something of Castiel’s, something with personal meaning. And Dean, something of yours as well. Have you picked anything yet?”

“Sure have.” Gabriel nodded. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small, black, leather bound book. A long dark feather peeked out from its pages and a tie held it shut. “Cassie’s journal.” Gabriel looked down at it with a sigh, then handed it, reluctantly to Sam. Sam took it respectfully and placed it on the line of the Western point. He straightened up and looked pointedly at Dean.

Dean’s hand drifted down to his pocket, to fiddle with the object he had there. This spell, for better or worse, whichever he cast, would tie him with the ghost for the duration of it. If he failed in the casting, it would go badly for both of them. With a resolute nod, he wrapped his fingers around the object that held the most meaning to him.

He held it out for Sam to take. Sam was unsurprised by the item, though he had no idea when Dean had retrieved the charm from Benny. It was wrapped around a heavy wooden case that Sam knew held a scroll, tattered and old. A spell of preservation kept it from disintegrating. Sam placed the bundle on the Eastern line.

Gabriel frowned. “What about the North and the South? Aren’t those just as important?”

“Yes. But those will be filled with more traditional items.” Upon receiving blank looks, Sam continued, “Crystals. Dean doesn’t have any, and I didn’t find anything in the cottage, so I’m guessing that Castiel didn’t either. Do you?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Yeah, not my style. I can unearth the crystals if you need any, at least if they’re native to this region, but I don’t use them.”

“What do we need? Are they specified by the spell?” Dean wiped his nervous hands along the wizard robes. He actually hated the things, but it was the trappings of their trade. And required use for workings like this. Upon certification, he’d been given two sets of robes, supposedly worked with spells. First and foremost, a spell of shielding, of protection.

And if all else failed, and the robes survived whatever disaster the magician incurred, any magical investigations could use the secondary spells to ‘see’ the last moments of the dead wizard. Morbid, but useful. It had proved invaluable as a teaching aid, if the history was to be believed, so that wizardkind didn’t repeat the same mistakes that had killed their brethren.

That meant the robe was a necessary evil. Dean would wear it, but he would damn well be as pissy about it as he wanted, and no one could stop him.

“Well, yes and no. There are some that are, and then others listed as suggestions,” Sam replied. He closed the book and tucked it up under his arm and pulled a pouch out of his robes. “We’ll place the required spell stones in the remaining cardinal points and then the secondary ones we’ll place around the circle however they feel best.”

Sam handed the first stone to Dean, the second to Gabriel, “Rose Quartz – put this in the South. Amethyst – the North.” Sam stopped speaking to place a third stone atop Castiel’s journal and a fourth beside Dean’s scroll case.

“What are those?” Dean asked.

“Citrine—” Sam nodded at the stone atop the journal first, then to the black stone on the opposite side “—and Obsidian.”

“Is that all we need?” Gabriel asked, looking up at the sky with a little bit of worry evident on his face, even in the low light of the moon. Clouds were beginning to form, thick and full and dark. They obscured what precious little moonlight there was. The witching hour was approaching and no one, not even Dean, knew which way he would decide when the moment came.

Sam shook his head. “No, though not required, it is suggested that we scatter Shaman Stones and Opals in alternating patterns around the circle. Hopefully we have enough. We’ll have to spread them out if not,” Sam handed Dean and Gabriel each a single handful. “That’s all I could find. The last thing that could be prepared ahead of time was this.”

Sam tucked his pouch back into his robes and turned to the bench, where he’d left a pre-made mixture of exotic ingredients—and some not so exotic—in a fireproof stone bowl. Dean glanced up from where he and Gabriel worked to make the best arrangement they could and recognized the bowl as the one Sam used for his own spells, carved with glyphs and wardings in Sam’s own hand with Dean’s help.

“Dean, you’ll need to stand at the center of the circle with this. You’ll speak the words of the spell—whichever one you’ve decided on.” Sam cast a disapproving look at Dean, which Dean ignored. “At the same time as you speak the words, you have to cut yourself and bleed into the bowl—not a lot, a few drops is all that’s needed. When you cast the last word, the deciding one, set the bowl on fire and hold it up towards the moon.”

“And then?”

“And then…that’s it. The spell is cast. Whatever happens, happens.” Sam sighed. “Dean—“

“Don’t say it, Sam.”

“I was only going to say…good luck.” Sam turned sorrowful eyes on Dean. Dean sighed and crushed his brother in a hug.

“I’ll be fine, Sam. Have a little faith.” Dean let his arms drop and took the bowl from Sam. “I want you to step well back. Just in case.”

“I can’t go too far, Dean. I’m going to light your candles for you. You just get in place, and remember, once the spell starts neither of us can intervene. You’ll have to set fire to that concoction yourself,” Gabriel reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Dean stepped away and carefully into the circle, walking barefoot to the center, letting the feel of the Earth ground him. Gabriel had thought ahead, to where Dean had not, and in the center point there stood a small pillar with a wide enough ledge that he could set the bowl down, leaving his hands free for everything else he needed to do. Thankfully, he’d spent the day and the previous night memorizing the words, and when he felt he was ready, he’d gone through the rituals to purify both his mind and body.

The wind picked up and Dean tightened the cinch of his robe. Looking up, he checked the position of the moon, partially obscured as it was behind the thickening clouds. It was just about time. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to center himself, counting down to the witching hour. Dean opened them again and nodded at Gabriel. The candles flickered to life.

It was time.

Dean raised his hand and held it above the bowl, pulling his ceremonial silver dagger out of its sheath. He sliced open his palm and squeezed it into a fist to push the blood out drop by drop. As the first splash of blood touched the bowl, Dean began the spell,

_ “Ego luna, testis, Da pacem, tranquillitatem Da mihi sapientiam, _

_ Ab Aquilone, nos, nobis, Et luna, et eris ductor noste,” _

With each word he spoke, the wind howled, trying to rip the sound away. He spoke louder and louder, watching each drop of blood flare unnaturally as it fell, soaking through the mixture Sam had made and starting to pool. Surely that was  _ too _ much blood? Was he supposed to be speaking faster? Dean pushed down the panic, the urge to rush through the spell.

_ “Ab Oriente, et contrivit nos: nos ut, Accedamus vires terrae _ _ , _

_ A meridie, sana nobis, Fac nobis totum, Et congrega nos,” _

Placing the dagger beside the bowl, still intoning the words relentlessly, evenly, he reached inside his robes again, this time for the flame starter. It was one of the few tools he and Sam had created together and Dean used on a regular basis. He hoped the wind didn’t blow it out before he could touch it to the bowl.

_ “Ab occidente, aperite portas, numquam dormire, Qui periit liberemus, _

_ Ego luna, testimonium, Da mihi sapientiam, Audite electi _ _ ,” _

Dean held the flame starter at the ready, pain now searing through his body. A glowing mist circled him before coalescing into the colorless figure of a man facing him opposite the bowl. It held its hands out towards Dean imploringly, lips pulled back in a show of pain and a silent scream. Dean nearly faltered. The words almost stumbled on his tongue.

_ “Inter Aquilonem et Eurum, Ad meridiem West Animam, subleva—” _

He closed his fist, flicked the firestarter and lit the bowl. Blue white flames engulfed it quickly and the spell wracked his body, his limbs moving against a wall to lift the bowl up high. It felt almost as if the spell itself was trying to stop him from casting. Dean gritted his teeth a bare second in the pause between the body of the spell and the last word.

The choice was upon him.

He shouted, “ _ Da ei spiritum _ _! _ _ ” _ out to the sky and thrust the bowl up the last 2 inches. Lightning shot out of the sky and struck the bowl, the shock of it knocking Dean to the ground. The bowl clattered to the ground, spilling its contents. Dean cried out at the waste, furious that he’d been given no warning to this eventuality when setting up. He pushed up onto shaking hands and knees.

A figure, naked as the day any man was born struggled to do the same on the other side, gasping in ragged breaths. Dean’s eyes widened as he realized he’d succeeded. The man managed to lift his head and blue eyes— _ oh gods, so blue, so gorgeous, as unnatural as Benny had suggested, but beautiful. These were the eyes in his dreams, eyes he’d longed to see _ —met his before they rolled back into the man's— _ Castiel’s— _ head. He collapsed to the ground, causing a small whirlwind of white petals to rise from the ground at the impact.

Dean barely had time to wonder where they’d come from before blackness took him and he, too, fell to the ground, limp and weak. Heavy lids closing against his will, Dean thought he heard his brother shouting his name.

Then there was nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's spell (this was HARD btw! It's not based on anything, so I created it whole clothe and wow...though this is easier than the one i use later)
> 
> I call the moon  
> Bear witness  
> Grant me peace, serenity  
> Grant me wisdom
> 
> From the North  
> CLeanse us  
> inspire us  
> Let the moon be our guide (Amethyst)
> 
> From the East  
> Ground us  
> Shelter us  
> Let us draw strength from the Earth(Obsidian)
> 
> From the South  
> Heal us  
> Make us whole  
> Let us gather together (Rose Quartz)
> 
> From the West  
> open the gates  
> tip the scale  
> Let us save the one who is lost (Citrine)
> 
> I call the moon  
> Bear Witness  
> Grant me wisdom  
> Heed the choice
> 
> North to East  
> South to West  
> Ease the soul  
> Give him breath


	7. Waking Up Is Hard To Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 begins...

Dean woke slowly, groggily. His head was pounding, body aching. Blinking his eyes, he saw only darkness.

Groaning, he rolled over—or he tried to. Something was pinning him down. Panicking, he flailed, but that failed too. What had happened? Why was he as weak as a day-old kitten? The last thing he remembered…

Was a naked man.

A  _ gorgeously _ naked man. A man he might have daydreamed about. A man who, as a ghost, had touched him like no one else had. He whimpered, and Dean couldn’t say if it was in need or in pain.

“Nnnnn…Stop…moving…” a voice gasped out in his ear. A deep, gravelly voice that sent shivers down his spine. The ghost. The wizard. Cas was…Cas was… _ Dean had succeeded _ — _ Cas was alive! _

And apparently in bed with him. Dean’s face burned and his breathing all but stopped. He tried to move again and something tightened around him. An arm. The ghost, no,  _ Cas _ , had his arm wrapped around Dean and a leg thrown over his. That was why he couldn’t move. Maybe. He didn’t seem to have all that much energy either, to tell the truth. It was, at least, part of the reason.

A wordless shout sounded in his ears and made the throbbing in his head worse. Dean groaned and the body beside him echoed the sentiment.

“Gabe! They’re awake!”

Moments later, a light flared in the room. Dean flinched backwards, further into the arms of the until recently deceased wizard. Blurry shapes came into his vision as his eyes watered, hands coming down and easing him into a sitting position. Shifting on the bed indicated the same was being done to the wizard Dean had resurrected.

Resurrected. He couldn’t believe he’d actually  _ done _ it, had  _ actually succeeded _ . What were the odds? Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of anything like it. Then again, it wasn’t like Sam or him had had any  _ formal _ schooling.

“Dean? Dean, talk to me. How do you feel?” Sam, that was Sam’s voice. He sounded…scared? Awed? Concerned?

“Like…shit…” Dean gasped out.  _ Why was it so hard to talk? To breathe? _

“You did it, Dean! I can’t believe you  _ did it! _ ” Sam continued to gabble at him.

“Told ya…I could…little brother…” Dean continued to gasp, grateful for the wall at his back, the warmth at his side. He could hear sounds, talking beside him. But it was hard enough to make sense of his brother’s words, the meaning of all else was lost on him. “Can I…go back…to sleep…now?”

Dean’s mind was getting thick again, sluggish and slow, his eyes heavy and burning. He blinked slowly, then again. On the third blink, he didn’t bother opening his eyes again, Sam’s voice cut in but it was slipping away…

“What? Dean, no! We gotta talk about this! We need to ask him what happened. Whatever killed him, that danger’s still out there and we need to—“

The next time Dean woke, the ache in his body was less, his head had calmed down to a manageable level and he was laying down once more.

And he was still pinned down.

This time, when he rolled, he was able to move, to pull free. Only, when he did so, he hit the cold stone floor with a thud.

“Owww…” Dean intoned flatly, no energy for much else. A rustle came from above him, but he couldn’t make himself look. He was afraid to move, or even open his eyes. The vertigo from his brief — and abrupt — movement was too strong.

“Are you all right?” the voice was low and as weak as Dean felt, confused but concerned. The same voice from earlier.

“Right as rain,” Dean managed.

There was a pause — Dean could almost hear  the other man thinking — before the voice spoke again. “How is rain right?”

Before Dean could think to respond, arms grabbed him and pulled him up. His head spun and his stomach lurched. “Not so fast,” he gasped out, “I think…I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Dean’s eyes focused on the form in front of him, getting the tall blob in front of him to resolve into Sam, who was grinning from ear to ear, but still had a lingering spot of concern hovering about his face, in the squint of his eyes and the furrowed brow.  Only his brother could manage such a mixed expression.

Thankfully, at Dean’s words, rather than continue to haul Dean up, Sam instead propped Dean against the bed, Dean’s head coming to rest beside the dangling hand of the wizard he’d saved. Castiel. That sent a thrill through him and Dean desperately wanted to turn his head, to finally get a good look at Castiel, but he needed the room to stop spinning first.

“I’m so confused,” Castiel grumbled, the sounds behind Dean’s head making it obvious that the other wizard was trying to push himself up on the bed. In an instant, Gabriel was by his side to help him. An all too quick flash, a blur of movement speeding by Dean that made him want to heave. He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths, hoping to stave off the feeling.

“Gabriel? What are you doing here?” Castiel asked slowly. With his eyes closed, Dean concentrated on the voices around him. He decided quickly that he liked the sound of Castiel’s.

“What do you remember, little brother?” Gabriel asked, instead of answering his poor brother. If Sam had tried that with Dean, he’d be annoyed.

Castiel, apparently, was more forgiving of his sibling, “I’m not sure…my head is…everything is all muddled.”

“Leave Cas be.   _ My _ mind is still addled and  _ I  _ wasn’t dead for a month or more,” Dean said without thinking, though he talked slowly, in between large breaths.

“I was  _ dead _ ?” Cas’s voice took on a near hysterical pitch, rising higher than Dean had yet heard it. That, Dean decided promptly, he did  _ not  _ like. If he knew the man better, if the world wasn’t spinning, Dean would have tried to comfort him. It was probably for the best he didn’t feel like he could move.

“Eh, you got better,” Gabriel shrugged.

“Got better?  _ Better? _ You don’t get ‘better’ from being dead. Dead is  _ dead _ , Gabe.” Castiel’s eyes were wide in shock when Dean managed to tilt his head up to look at the man. The movement made his stomach lurch again and he quickly closed his eyes. Gods, he felt absolutely terrible.  “What did you  _ do?” _

“You were dead, and yeah, Gabe’s essentially correct. Though  _ my _ brother had a hand in that, not yours. And now the two of you need to recover,” Sam said. Behind closed lids, Dean rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it. He swallowed back the rising bile. At least Sam hadn’t made a big deal out of it.

“Why were we sharing a bed?” Castiel moved on to the next question and Dean felt a vague sense of disappointment. He tried to assure himself that Cas had been through a lot. Had crossed worlds. That it might take a while for him to remember certain… _ things. _

Like how Dean might not actually mind sharing the bed with Castiel.

“Well, first uh…” Sam exchanged a look with Gabriel, “we thought neither of you would mind, considering, um…” Sam cleared his throat. “And not to mention, we’ve got four of us in a single occupancy cottage. There’s only one bed and you both needed it.”

“But Sam, what about you?” Dean managed.

“I’m fine, Dean, I’ve told you. I feel better than I have for a while,” Sam protested with exasperation. Dean could hear the bitch face in his voice and frowned.

“Yeah, but…”

“What’s wrong with Sam?” Castiel broke in as Dean trailed off weakly.

“Nothing! There’s nothing wrong with me!” Sam glared down at Dean. The glare didn’t last long as he took in his brother looking all weak and pathetic, yet still defiant from the floor. “Look, why don’t we get Dean settled back up on the bed — it’d be more comfortable — and Gabe and I will get the two of you some solid food, because you both  _ really _ need to eat something other than broth and tea. Then we’ll talk.”

“Yeah, I think I can move without throwing up now,” Dean agreed. He slowly blinked his eyes open, reached one hand out to grasp the bed for leverage and raised the other for Sam to take, pulling his legs up close to his body in readiness to stand.

Sam grabbed his hand and yanked Dean to his feet, causing Dean to stumble into him bodily and clutch at Sam. “Gods, Sam…why’d you…” Dean’s throat convulsed.

“Ewww…” Gabriel waved a hand in front of his nose. Sam looked down at himself and Dean in dismay.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Sam stammered.

“You should be,” Dean muttered.

From the bed came a quiet sound and Gabriel shut his eyes. Without bothering to look he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great, just…wonderful.”

“If it helps,” Castiel said, his gravelly voice sounding a little stronger, “I actually feel a good deal better now.”

“Me too,” Dean agreed, though he daren’t let go of his clutch on Sam. Then again, Dean wasn’t sure it was all him holding him up. It might have been mostly Sam. Possibly.

“Well then, let’s get you two cleaned up before we get the food.”

“No, food first…” Dean groaned.

“No way, the two of you have been stewing in your own juices for long enough and this is the last straw,” Sam said emphatically as he helped Dean to the bathing room, setting him down in a chair from just outside of it that he’d hooked with his foot and dragged along. Ducking inside, Sam got the pump going and filled the tub as quick as he could, making sure to make it as hot as Dean liked.

Finally, he helped Dean pry off his — frankly, absolutely rank and disgusting — clothes. Dean was just too tired and too out of it to even be embarrassed as Sam helped him into the tub naked. There were some things he’d rather Sam didn’t see but right now, he couldn’t muster the energy to care.

“Can you manage in here alone for a little bit?” Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean quirked an eyebrow up and glared. “I’m not going to drown, Sam. I’m a grown man,” he grumped.

“I know that — Dean!” Sam hissed suddenly, staring with wide eyes and scaring Dean.

Dean blinked, trying to get his head together enough to figure out what he might have done to cause such a reaction. He hadn’t done much more than lean back in the tub and rest his head on the little ledge before Sam had stared at him in something akin to…what? Horror? Amazement? Gods, Dean was too tired for this.

“What?” Dean tried to make the word bite, to get Sam’s attention, but it only came out tired.

Sam reached a shaking hand towards Dean and pointed. “Your shoulder…Dean…where did that come from?”

“Where’d what come from?” Dean craned his neck around carefully to look at his right shoulder. Raised, red and angry against his skin, was a mark the size and shape of a man’s hand.

“Huh.” Dean took it in, blinking. “I don’t remember that.”

“Doesn’t it hurt? It looks like it should hurt.” Sam crept in closer to get a better look.

“No, I mean, no more than the rest of me, anyway.” Dean shrugged and poked at it. Sam flinched at the action. “Ah well, no use in worrying about it right now. Go…leave me in peace. Make some food or something.”

“Fine, Dean.” Sam stalked out of the bathing room after rolling his eyes. Dean closed his own and just relaxed into the piping hot embrace of the water and let himself float, managing to clear his mind enough to lose himself until the door reopening ripped him straight out of his calm.

“Sam, I promise I’m not drowning,” Dean growled without bothering to open his eyes. He was the elder brother, but Sam always acted like he knew more, knew best.

“Good for you. That means you can keep Cassie from drowning while I help Sam,” Gabriel's cheerful voice had Dean yelping, his body jolting as he opened his eyes. He could feel his face growing hot and he quickly saw he was not alone.

Castiel’s face was red as a flame and he was averting his eyes, glaring at his own brother. “Gabe, it is unnecessary to intrude on Dean. I can wait — “

“Uh uh, little brother. You both stink. Getting both of you sorted as fast as possible is for the sake of all our noses, trust me. Maybe you can’t smell yourself, but Sam and I sure can.”

Without giving Castiel the chance for any sort of protest, Gabriel started to strip his brother as efficiently as Sam had with Dean. Dean tried to smother the whimper, but it still came out, albeit as a strangled sound he hoped to all that was holy they hadn’t noticed _. Oh gods, just kill me now _ , he thought as he sank back into the tub. How was he supposed to keep his composure with temptation sharing the tub with him? Gorgeous face, hypnotizing eyes, a voice that ran shivers down his spine – and the memories of that oh so erotic time they had last ‘shared’ the tub.

Thank all the gods that ever were that he was too worn down for his body to have any sort of obvious, physical reaction.

Especially since there would be no way for either of them to avoid touching each other. The tub might be able to fit them but it would be a damn  tight fit and involve a bit of overlapping.

Dean was concentrating so hard on keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even that he nearly missed Gabriel's indrawn breath. “Brother, what  _ is _ that?” Gabriel's voice rose in his shock.

“What is what?” came Castiel’s exasperated voice. Dean nearly snorted. He sounded just like Sam sometimes did when he’d had more than enough of what he called “Dean’s antics”.

“Cassie, I’m not blind — look at your shoulder.”

Dean blinked. Wait, what?

Dean snapped his eyes open and took in the view of the gloriously naked wizard. His mind ground to a halt and he forgot why he’d opened his eyes to begin with. Castiel angled his head to look — first at his right, then at his left shoulder. Following the scruffy gaze, that’s when Dean saw it too. His eyes widened and he bolted upright in the tub with a large splash.

“I…what…how?” Dean spluttered.

Castiel and Gabriel looked over at Dean with surprise, like they’d forgotten he was there. Dean’s eyes were glued to the handprint on Castiel’s shoulder. Nearly a match for the one on his own. Dean shifted just enough to show his right shoulder, lifting his eyes to meet Castiel’s. Castiel gripped Gabriel’s arm tightly, carefully stepping toward the tub.

Slowly, Castiel dropped his eyes back down to Dean’s arm. Dean watched Castiel reach forward, placing his hand gently over the handprint. Both of them gasped as  _ something _ seemed to surge through them and Castiel drew back sharply.

“Perfect fit…it’s a perfect fit…” Gabriel whispered disbelievingly, staring at Dean’s shoulder, then at Castiel’s. Swallowing, Dean couldn’t help but lean up and reach out for Castiel to test the theory that his hand would also match the print on Castiel’s shoulder.

As yet another surge of  _ something _ coursed through their bodies, it was clear that yes, it did.


	8. Conversation Starters For Sharing a Tub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Tub Sharing?  
> It's the next step up from Bed Sharing :P
> 
> I think this was my Beta's FAVORITE part of the story. other than the ghost smut that happened in this same tub. 
> 
> this tub has seen some stuff, apparently.

“Oh…my…gods! Cassie!” Gabriel’s voice once again went up in pitch with every word till he practically squealed. Both Cas and Dean flinched at the piercing sound. Dean’s hand slipped off Castiel’s shoulder and both felt the loss immediately.

Sam came barging in, when Gabriel’s screams reached him in the kitchen through the open door. Frantically, he pushed out the words, “What happened? What’s wrong?” Despite his assertions that he was feeling fine, the sudden exertion proved too much for Sam. He coughed, forcing him to stop and lean against the wall for support. Gabriel blinked and looked around the room.

“Well, other than the fact that apparently, I’m surrounded by invalids…look!” Gabriel shoved Castiel around and pointed at Dean. “They’re  _ bonded!” _

“They…what? But  _ how? _ ” Sam looked between Castiel and Dean with a puzzled expression, “And since when are bond marks so  _ big? _ ”

“Don’t know, don’t care!” Gabriel beamed at his brother who was looking confused, horrified and wistful all at the same time. Castiel’s wide eyes darted around the room, finally settling on Dean, the panic in them clear as he stood stiffly, biting his lip.

“I’m so sorry…I…I don’t know…I’ve ruined your life…” the poor man’s breathing had turned harsh and Dean leaned forward in concern.

“Don’t be sorry, Cas, it’s probably as much my fault as yours and, um, you haven’t exactly ruined anything.” Dean blushed and looked down and away, holding his breath.

“I don’t understand…you…you should be angry?”

Gabriel sighed. “Look, the two of you have a lot to talk about. We really should give both of you some space without us listening and looking on. Let’s finish getting you set up in the bath first, all right?” Dean looked up just as Castiel turned disbelieving eyes on Gabriel and opened his mouth. Gabriel shushed him and kept talking, “Everything’s going to be all right, little brother, I promise. The two of you? Have more in common than you apparently remember, if I got the right read off the situation earlier this week.”

Before Dean knew it, Castiel was sitting across from him, their legs bent and sliding against each other. Their brothers had disappeared, closing the door shut behind them. Castiel wouldn’t look up and his face was red. Honestly, Dean couldn’t blame him. At least  _ he  _ had a very clear inclination of where some of Castiel’s ‘tastes’ lay. To Castiel, whose memory was all jumbled about, nothing was quite so clear. If it were Dean in that position, he already  knew he’d be panicking.

As it was, Dean was at the very least embarrassed, but the one thing Dean didn’t have to fear was that Castiel would look down on him or judge him. Something Castiel was likely currently afraid of.

“So…about how awkward are you feeling right now?” Dean ventured, breaking the silence.

“Enough,” Castiel ground out with a flicking glance upwards and then back down again.

Dean sighed, “Yeah…I think our brothers mean well, but this was probably not the best way to go about things. Look, let’s just, let’s get to know each other some, all right?”

“Would you…could you at least tell me what’s been happening?” Castiel finally looked up and met Dean’s eyes.

Dean swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, sure, that’s completely reasonable. Um…I’m not entirely sure where to start, though, and I’m also certain we don’t know the whole story, but I can tell you our part, at least.” Dean sighed. He couldn’t help but remember the incident in the tub and he turned red. Well, he shouldn’t start with that, now should he?

He took a deep breath and started telling Castiel everything he knew that he thought might be relevant. How they’d been approached only a short time ago to take his place. That  _ they _ had been told he was dead, but the villagers had been told he’d simply left. Castiel raised his eyebrows in surprise at that. He tentatively broke in to note that he’d been brought in because the wizard before  _ him  _ had also died under mysterious circumstances, but that he’d never actually asked any of the villagers about it.

Dean went through the progression of how he’d come to realize Castiel was still around and why he thought it might be his fault. He paused briefly as the memory he was trying to ignore attempted to push its way to the forefront of his mind. Dean took a deep breath, missing the startled gasp from the man across from him. He plunged forward with Gabriel’s arrival and the book.

The choice he’d had to make.

“And I guess you know what I did…I mean, here you are. Do you think the bonding was a side effect of the spell? I mean, I knew it would connect us temporarily, but I hadn’t thought it would do…this?” Dean touched his hand to the mark on his shoulder. His fingers didn’t match his own mark. They were thicker and not quite as long, though the hands were almost the same size. “So…I guess, really, this is  _ my  _ fault.”

“Why?” Castiel asked quietly. Dean looked up. The wizard’s head was tilted and his eyes were confused.

“Why what?” Dean blinked at Castiel, now equally confused.

“Your brother was right. You took great risk to attempt that spell. Why try to save me? You didn’t know me, had never met me. Had no obligation to do so,” Castiel pointed out. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but…’

“How could I not? Besides, it was just as risky to try the other option.” Dean shifted uncomfortably. If Cas didn’t remember that they  _ had _ met, sort of, it would be hard to explain the connection he’d felt to the man. And not just because of…He cleared his throat. “Your brother wanted to do it. For you. And…I know how that is, how it feels. I’d do anything for my brother.”

“That would have been ill advised of Gabriel. He’s…his skill does not lie within the circle.” Castiel said slowly. “I’m glad it was you. I don’t think Gabriel would have succeeded. I much appreciate what you have done, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure, Cas,” Dean grinned at him. “So, what kind of magic do  _ you  _ do?” Hey, if their brothers were going to abandon them here to get to know each other, might as well start with the basics.

“Hmm…I focused on invocations and herbal magics, but when I do big spells or riskier magic, I tend to use rituals and circles. But I much prefer the spoken word and the natural magics,” Castiel answered.

“You don’t use elementals or illusion like your brother?” Dean asked in surprise.

Castiel frowned. “I don’t like illusions. It feels too much like lying. I already feel like…” He shook his head. Dean thought he knew what Castiel might have been thinking. Hiding part of who he was because society frowned on it…the lies and omissions they had to deal out on a daily basis with nearly every interaction. It took its toll. Thinking of it in that light, Dean did not blame him. “And to be an Elementalist, it requires you to have a certain social skill I find that I lack.”

“You seem to be doing just fine to me,” Dean encouraged. Again, unbidden, a memory of the night in the tub, their first real ‘interaction’, flashed quickly through his mind.

Castiel blinked and tilted his head at Dean, a blush forming across his face. Dean blushed as well, cursing his thoughts. The more he tried  _ not  _ to think about it, the more it seemed to dominate his mind.

Castiel stared at him, blushing harder and Dean had a moment of panic. “ Are you reading my mind, Cas?”

“No, I don’t…I don’t think so?” The questioning, uncertain lilt in his voice was clear and Dean relaxed slightly. If he wasn’t reading his mind, then…could he be…? “I think it’s more that…when you talk, your words remind me of things and I see…flashes of something? Some of it makes sense and some of it doesn’t. I—I’m not sure—“

“What doesn’t make sense?” Dean held his breath.  _ Could Cas be remembering? _

“No, I’m sure it’s nothing. More likely wishful thinking.” Castiel’s eyes held regret and he looked away.

Dean took a deep breath. Was he going to do this? Speak of this—openly and out loud—for the first time in his life? “M—maybe…maybe it wasn’t.” His voice shook. Castiel looked up sharply, disbelief but hope now colored his eyes. Dean couldn’t believe how expressive those eyes were. He was certain he could get lost in those vivid blue eyes and not care a whit. “I—I mean um…if you’re remembering…something that…that happened in here…it wasn’t wishful thinking. Though it might have um…started out that way on my part.” Dean was blushing furiously now. “And I’m saying that…if you…I’m not mad about the bond and I’d be more than willing to, to…”

In the wake of Castiel’s continued silence, despite the hope Dean had  _ thought  _ he saw, Dean’s words faltered and he looked away, biting his lip. But there was nowhere to escape Castiel’s gaze, not trapped as they both were in a tub together.

“I’m sorry. I—I probably made you uncomfortable. This was stupid. I shouldn’t have said...Never mind,” Dean finally managed in a whisper before pressing his lips together and closing his eyes, wishing he could sink down into the tub. He took a deep breath and then released it, groping for a cloth and the soap. He was in the bathtub and he might as well actually use it for its intended purpose. Which had the added benefit of giving him something to do so he wouldn’t look  _ quite _ so awkward and pitiful.

Dean had already lathered up the cloth and started scrubbing furiously at his arms in an effort to distract himself when Castiel shifted forward, crowding into his space more than he already was. Gently, he took the cloth from Dean, sliding it along Dean’s reddened and abused skin. Dean looked up finally, blinking against the pricking of tears that he’d been trying to hold back for the last few moments only to find Castiel sending him a hopeful and tremulous smile.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m not very good at this. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just could not believe what I heard. I thought…it was  _ more  _ wishful thinking.” Castiel ducked his head. “If you really mean that, I would, perhaps, be willing to give us, our bond, a try?” Cas looked up, the movements of his hand slowing down as he stared at Dean while biting his lips yet again. Dean was starting to feel a little sorry for those lips…and also a little jealous in a strange way. He wanted to run his tongue over them, sooth the bitten flesh. He took a breath and tried to clear his head.

“Yeah, I really mean it,” Dean hesitated, but then figured, what the hell, there was no reason to be shy if they were going to give this a go, right? “Have you…much experience?”

“You mean,” Castiel said, his deep voice dropping almost to a whisper, “having relations with other men?”

Castiel froze as he said it and even Dean, knowing they were alone and that their brothers had no issues with this, still looked around as if expecting someone to jump out at them. He huffed out a laugh at his ridiculousness and nodded. Castiel shook his head no and Dean felt some surprise.

“No? As in, none at all?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“No,” Castiel answered, tilting his head. “Why are you so surprised? Is it not understandable that someone such as us, who has to hide who and what they really are, would likely not be very experienced?”

“But then, how’d you…” Dean leaned in closer, face burning as he spoke the words aloud, “When you were a ghost, the way you touched me. I’d never felt the like.”

“Oh!” Castiel exclaimed with embarrassment. “I uh, I had noticed when I was much younger that I found the male figure more alluring than that of the female, though I never felt a great urge to follow through. But I had thought that I must not be the only one to have thought as much, to have such desires. I tried to subtly ask around. But it seems that I am not as subtle as someone with my inclinations should be in a society that shuns those such as I. As us. I was lucky in the regard that I had made myself indispensable where I was but I had not made…many friends. Even my benign interest was seen as damning.”

Dean lay a hand on Castiel’s as the man paused and took a breath. He smiled at Dean and Dean felt like his world had tilted on its axis. Castiel continued, “Thankfully, Gabriel stood up for me. And a few years ago, a fellow student named Balthazar, who was at least a decade my senior, came to me after his own Trials. He had heard the rumors and offered up his advice, should I ever come across someone I would risk all for. He was, you could say, very informative. I believe  _ he _ had much experience.”

“Afterwards, when I finished  _ my _ Trials, Gabriel found me a place here, where no one knew the rumors and I could start over, in peace. Despite Balthazar’s kindness, I had resigned myself to never finding anyone who could accept me as I was,” Cas finished quietly. “How was it for you? Did you…have you ever…?”

Dean let out a huff and nodded. “I’m not greatly experienced. The kind of life I’ve lived—it has its ups and downs. Sam and I, we grew up on the road, always traveling. Rarely did we stop for more than a month at a time unless it was winter. We resorted to holing up many times in caves during the winter season because we didn’t have the money for anything better. But because of this I had a different sort of experience than you.”

As Dean spoke, Castiel resumed washing him, suddenly remembering the soap soaked cloth in his hand. He dragged the cloth along Dean’s arms and to his shoulders, inching forward in the tub for better reach. Dean closed his eyes with a contented hum and continued to talk, “As a traveler, a vagabond, if something ever went wrong, if we—for whatever reason—drew the ire of whatever village or town we were in, we could always pull up stakes and take off before the repercussions hit. It allowed me a little more leeway, perhaps, than you had. However, it didn’t allow for the time to do much, since there was always the fear of discovery. Not so much for me, but whichever villager who had approached me.”

Dean frowned. “One too many times, we were caught in compromising positions and we had to…to preserve his reputation in the village, the man would denounce m e, say  that I had forced him—“

Castiel made a sound of protest and Dean shook his head. “I know but, I understood. They had to stay there, those men, not that there were many, but they lived there, in those towns, small or large. They had to live with the consequences while I could leave. And as a wizard, well, still wizard in training then, I could protect myself should the people get violent. It’s not something I would have, could have, done in their positions but…”

“Dean, you should never have had to shoulder that. It was not right of him—of them—to do that to you.” Castiel’s voice was pained on Dean’s behalf and Dean looked up at him in wonder.

“You’re…gods, Cas,” Dean whispered. He blinked, suddenly realizing that the two of them were nearly sitting in each other’s laps, Castiel’s legs drawn up to fit around Dean as he had gravitated closer to the other wizard. Castiel’s blue eyes, so rich and inviting, seemed to bore straight down into Dean’s soul. “You are something special, aren’t you?”

Castiel shook his head with a flush on his face. “No, I’m really not. I’m just me. But you…” Castiel dropped the cloth from his hand, the small splash it made going unnoticed, and touched his fingertips lightly to Dean’s jaw. “So selfless in all that you do…”

“Cas? Cas, can I kiss you? Please?” Dean nearly begged, the words cracking as he spoke.

Castiel whined in response and leaned forward till their lips touched. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed. He’d rarely, if ever, been given a chance to just kiss someone, slow and leisurely, for the sake of kissing and not a means to an end. He gave himself over to it, to Cas, and they spent long minutes doing just that. A slow, wondrous exploration of the others lips leading to an eventual gasp and moan and opening of mouths, inviting tongues to touch, to tangle together, to taste the other.

Finally, reluctantly, they pulled away. Neither was hard, but that was fine. Their bodies were still recovering from their ordeal and it would give them time to grow to know each other. If they were going to try this, they wanted to give it their all.

Eventually, they finished washing, taking turns to help each other, getting familiar with each other’s bodies, even as they talked and got further acquainted with the others mind, their history. They touched on lighter subjects, and on family.

Neither was ever more grateful for the spelled tub and the ever-hot water. Their bodies still somewhat weak, and a little shaky, they took it slow, trying not to overdo it, to overtax themselves. They took so long their fingers turned pruney and they laughed as their touches began to tickle each other.

The water had long since become dirty and Dean wrinkled his nose at how dark it had gotten. “Guess our brothers were right, we really did need this.”

“I feel much better for it. Though I would not argue with some food right about now,” Castiel agreed.

“You ready to try standing? I think if we use each other for support, we should be okay. I feel less shaky then I did earlier,” Dean asked.

“Perhaps,” Castiel looked about the small bathing chamber. “I don’t think our brothers left us any clothing. Nor anything to dry off with.”

“They haven’t checked on us either,” Dean noted worriedly.

“That seems a rather odd thing to me. As worried as they both were, and as out of it and weak as we had both been, you would think they wouldn’t stay away for so long, regardless of the space they were attempting to give us.” Castiel bit at his bottom lip, Dean’s worry contagious. They looked at each other, and within the next instant, both of them tried to stand, using the other for leverage.

They slipped a little in the wet tub, but managed to get to their feet without mishap. Taking turns, they carefully stepped out of it, still holding on to the other. Once clear of the tub, Castiel pulled the plug to let the water drain and Dean muttered a word, “ _ Siccatum,” _ and their need for towels to dry off became less urgent. However, the effort made him sway in Castiel’s arms and he dropped his head to Castiel’s shoulder, breathing hard.

“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” Dean gasped.

Castiel hummed agreement with him, but didn’t berate him like Sam would have done and Dean just relished in that. “I’ll take your experience to heart and refrain from any such endeavors for the moment. It seems wisest.”

“Yeah, Cas, no argument from me.” Dean let the dizziness wash through him till it fell away and he was able to straighten up again. Still using each other as support pillars, they managed to stumble to the door and open it. They were just about ready to step out into the kitchen stark naked when the door shut in their face.

They blinked at the door dumbly.

They looked at each other in confusion.

Then Dean remembered.

It might not be safe.  _ Someone _ had killed Castiel at some point, after all. And even if most of the village people were innocent, it might not be a good idea to advertise that Castiel was back just yet. In that case, if someone was at the cottage right this second, it meant that Castiel’s sudden appearance could bring the danger back to them in an immediate fashion, and they weren’t exactly up to any sort of confrontation right at this moment.

What had been happening while they’d been wasting time in the tub?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Siccatum - Evaporate
> 
> NOT OFFICIAL ART
> 
> I drew this for my Beta (I actually scribbled it at the bottom of the story during my edits - i print out what I've written and red pen the thing. it helps me a lot to have a physical copy in front of me) and then sent it to my artist as well. She didn't wind up needing it, but my Beta was very grateful. The idea that two grown men could share the same tub?? Yeah, i had to illustrate how i was thinking that was possible. Cramped, yes. A little close for comfort? sure. But definitely possible.
> 
> maybe one day i'll take this thumbnail and actually FINISH it...
> 
>   
>   
> 


	9. Crowley Gets Suspicious

Dean and Castiel stood on the other side of the door, concern radiating off of both of them. Their brothers were somewhere on the other side in who knew what sort of situation. Dean pressed his ear against the door, desperate to discern something. Their brothers—either one or both of them—had to be in the kitchen for  the door to have shut like that.

The wood was too thick, the cottage having been built too well. It was probably spelled too. Everything else was.  _ But then, how had Sam heard him when _ — _? _ He shook his head and frowned at the door. However Sam had heard him a few days ago, Dean  could make out no sounds whatsoever at this moment. Then again, maybe Gabriel and Sam had left after shutting the door. Or they could be talking too quietly to be heard through the stone and wood. It was probably not actually spelled, just good construction.

“Dean, while it may be wisest to stay here as is obviously the wish of our brothers, I find a great need to know what is happening right now. My brother could be in danger out there.” Castiel tried to keep his voice low, calm. Dean swallowed and nodded his agreement.

“No argument there.” Dean tried to think quickly what he could do with what little resources they had. The bathing chamber, for privacy sake, held no  _ real _ windows. Instead, there was a series of small, narrow windows cut into the wall and covered with old fashioned tempered glass. The glass was clouded over, but in such a way as to amplify whatever light came through it. These had been the source of their light during the bath, and continued to be now. There was the tub and the pump, the indoor privy and sink. A small rack with a scarce amount of supplies on it—mostly small clothes and various soaps.

There was nothing useful in the room.

Except for themselves.

There was nothing for it. Gathering his strength, Dean closed his eyes and replaced his ear upon the door, holding his palm beside his face, against the wood.

“Dean? What are you doing?” Castiel asked in a hushed voice.

“ _ Et portasti subausculto _ , ” Dean whispered.

The world shifted, tilted away as his knees buckled and he slid to the ground against the door. Dean barely registered Castiel making a sound of surprise and horror. Nor that he clutched at Dean’s arms, keeping his slide gentle and following him down, Castiel not having the strength to hold Dean up completely on his own and finding it easier just to go along for the ride.

The sound in Dean’s ears hollowed and echoed oddly. Pushing the spell past the door, he listened for any words or signs of life, anything that would let them know their brothers were still alive and well. With relief, he found he didn’t have to push too hard. Sam and Gabriel and at least one other person  _ were _ in the kitchen. Automatically, as he heard the conversation, Dean echoed it for Cas’s benefit.

“ — fine. You don’t need to come here every day just to check on us. If you didn’t believe we were up to the task of being the wizards — “

“Wizard, Sam, I only hired Dean. I didn’t hire an invalid,” Crowley broke in.

“Doesn’t matter, the point is, if you didn’t think  _ Dean _ could do this, then why did you hire him?” Sam finished.

“Why doesn’t your brother just speak for himself?” Crowley asked.

“I found I had no need to, Crowley. My brother did just fine, speaking the words I would have said anyway. Despite some minor sibling disputes, my brother and I usually agree on most things.” Dean echoed the words he heard but couldn’t understand how it sounded like  _ him _ on the other side of the door, when he was very clearly on  _ this _ side of the door. And where was Gabe — oh, Gabriel must have mastered auditory illusions in addition to visual. Dean was impressed. Few people tried to take it up to the next level like that.

“Well, I would appreciate it if one of you would do the actual  _ wizarding _ around here. What’s the point in hiring a wizard, when even with two, I’m not getting the work of one?” Crowley blustered loudly.

“We’ve done every task you’ve set us. It is not our fault if you neglected to tell us of any other duties you had in mind,” Sam answered calmly, but Dean could clearly hear the exasperation in his voice.

As Dean continued to speak, he sagged, the only things holding him up at all were now the door and Castiel’s hands. He stopped hearing the words, reciting them without registering anything, his energy waning. Dean knew he should not have cast the spell. Especially after the warning he’d already gotten just from drying them off. He’d known better and he’d pushed anyway.

But Castiel had been worried, and frankly, so was he. Someone or some _ thing  _ had killed Castiel before, and was bound to notice that he was no longer dead. They were all in danger and until Castiel could remember anything, they knew not where the danger came from. So Dean refused to regret anything, even as his head spun and his limbs shook.

When the words on the other side of the door stopped, so did he…but he was too lost in a haze to let go of the spell or even realize the need for it had passed.

“Dean, Dean, please! Stop the spell, he’s gone — Crowley’s gone…Dean!” Slowly, the panicked sound of the other mage, Dean’s bonded — _ holy hell, Dean still couldn’t believe his luck _ — penetrated the daze he was in and Dean raised his head slowly to look into blue eyes. Dean used those eyes to focus on the other man as he pleaded with Dean to let go.

_ Let go of what? _ The sluggish thoughts struggled through his mind. He looked down at his hands that were holding nothing and back up to Castiel with a confused look.

“The spell — Dean, it’s over,” Castiel implored. His hands had gathered Dean close. Dean nodded and let his eyes slip closed, causing the other man to panic more. “Dean!”

This time, Dean ignored him as he released the spell with a single word — not even spoken aloud, though his lips moved. The intent was there, enough for the magic to listen to the spell word, and sound came rushing back into focus as he collapsed forward into Cas’s arms more fully, gasping.

Pounding on the door and indistinct voices muffled through the wood finally made itself known to Dean, though maybe he’d been hearing it all along and had just been too out of it to notice.

Frankly, if his head didn’t hurt as much as it did, he probably  _ still  _ wouldn’t notice, but the loud noises made him wince in pain.

Castiel slid them away from the door, not even bothering to try and stand up to do it. Both of them sat on the floor against the wall, Dean now pulled completely into his lap and cradled there, Castiel running a shaking hand through Dean’s dirty blond hair.

Dean breathed slow and kept his eyes closed as he tucked his head into Castiel’s neck. His head still swam dizzily and he wasn’t about to move in the slightest. He didn’t understand it, the strength of this, how fast it had happened, the absolute comfort he derived from the other mage’s mere presence, his touch. Was this what being bonded was like?

The doorknob twisted as their brothers tried it again and found it suddenly unblocked. They shoved it open in their own, breathless panic, “What happened? Are you all right? What’s wrong with Dean?”

The words fell out of their mouths in such quick succession that in Dean’s current state it was impossible to tell which brother had spoken, only that they were  _ both _ speaking. He groaned at the thought of finding the energy to speak.

Thankfully, Castiel stepped in for him. “Dean cast a spell…it appears that it was too soon for such endeavors and it has greatly weakened him.”

“Why would he do that?” Sam fell to his knees with a thud to check Dean over, trying to pull him away from Castiel to do so. Dean whined until Sam let go.

“You locked us in here, effectively. We were worried that something was wrong,” Castiel said tiredly. Dean could feel it when Castiel leaned his head back against the wall, brushing against Dean’s as he did so.

“Dean, you’re shaking.” Sam’s voice was wobbly, scared as he reached again for his brother.  Gabe remained quiet and Dean wondered what was going through his head.

“I’m fine,” Dean mumbled, forcing himself to speak, the words hard to hear. His chest fluttered strangely with the effort, not quite in pain but definitely uncomfortable.

“No, you're not. Gods! How could you be so stupid?” Sam demanded hotly.

“Sam!” Castiel said sharply, lifting his head away from the wall, “Whether or not his actions were stupid or necessary doesn’t matter. Do not berate your brother. He needs help, not condemnation.” Castiel's hands were soothing through Dean's hair. Though his voice was strong his hands were shaky. Dean managed to open his eyes in time to see Sam falter under the squinty eyed glare, Gabriel shooting Dean’s brother a thoughtful look, yet still keeping his mouth uncharacteristically shut.

“Okay…” Sam shook his head, seeming to rally himself before continuing. “Okay, we have to get you guys taken care of. Cas, can you stand up?” Sam asked, his voice quieter now, for which Dean was eminently thankful.

“Maybe...but I can't support Dean on my own and he certainly cannot support himself at this time,” Castiel admitted reluctantly. Sam and Gabe moved so they could help their brothers stand, which became problematic when Dean refused to let go of his sudden grip on Castiel.

It wasn’t until Castiel soothed him that Dean was able to relax his grip. Sam wrapped Dean’s arm around his shoulder and walked him slowly back to the single bedroom, Castiel forced to follow behind due to the narrowness of the hall. Dean tried to twist to see Castiel and the other mage pushed forward quickly on his own shaking legs to touch Dean’s arm. Gabriel’s eyebrows rose as he watched, Sam oblivious to Castiel’s actions, only taking in the fact that Dean had relaxed again, assured that Cas wasn’t being left behind.

They reached the room and Sam and Gabe helped their brothers dress in loose clothing—Gods! Dean hated being an invalid!—and tucking them back into the bed with its freshly changed linens. All thought of settling down in the kitchen forgotten, something Dean was more than happy with considering the way he felt. This was way more comfortable. Sitting propped up against the wall, Dean leaned into Castiel heavily with a relieved sigh and Castiel took Dean’s hand in his.

Their brothers returned shortly with food and chairs. Dean and Castiel were handed their food on a lap tray for stability. It was filled with thick stew and bread, water and tea, enough for two. Maybe too much. Dean couldn’t quite manage the stew without spilling it but when Sam reached forward to help with an eye roll, Castiel shot him a look and Sam fell back blinking, watching Castiel and Dean closely.

“Sooooo.” Gabriel leaned back in his chair, deliberately drawing out the word to get everyone’s attention clear on him. “We have to talk.”

“We do,” Castiel agreed mildly.

But an instant later, Castiel’s eyes widened as something flashed in them, something that Dean nearly missed in his weakened state. Castiel sucked in a breath, dropping the spoon back into the stew with a wet plop, “Gods—we’re all in danger!”

“We know that, Cas,” Gabriel soothed, looking at his brother in concern.

“No, it was Crowley! I—I remember,  _ am _ remembering something and it was, gods, it was  _ Crowley. _ And he’s suspicious now. When you locked us in the bathroom—Dean told me every word he said. That was the spell he cast. Crowley, he’s been coming by every day to bother you without a good reason, and it’s because he  _ knows _ that something’s wrong. And he’ll keep coming by till he figures what.” Castiel’s gravelly voice was filled with urgency enough to wake Dean out of his stupor.

Dean had been listening and following along, but his energy level had been too low to participate. Castiel’s sudden revelation, his quick words and fast pulse brought Dean to focus better on more than just the food he’d been eating.

“Cas? What are you saying? It was Crowley who killed you?” Dean rasped out. His throat hurt, a fact he realized only then and he grasped for the tea, knowing his brother had likely put honey in it. He gulped it down but his eyes didn’t leave Castiel’s face for an instant.

Castiel shuddered and nodded. “Yes, Crowley…he has some sort of dark pact going on with  _ something _ in that forest. I don’t know what it is, exactly. I’m not sure if I don’t know or I just haven’t remembered yet. But it’s...it’s something, something  _ dark _ and incredibly old. Crowley overpowered me, sacrificed me in a ritual in exchange for wealth and prosperity for the village, and also to appease whatever it is. If I’m alive…”

“Then the sacrifice is null.” Sam was the first to realize the implications of Castiel’s words. Dean’s head still felt sluggish, but he wasn’t surprised that Sam could figure it out. “Whatever it is, if it requires sacrifices, it must collect them, use them for something. It would  _ have  _ to notice when the sacrifice goes missing…then what? It would perhaps blame Crowley, or maybe just put pressure on him to discover the cause. To maybe even, eventually, replace the sacrifice.

“And where else would you go? A spirit who is bound here would have no other options. It only makes sense he’s hounding us. Dean and I, we’re the only change, the only difference to this town. The obvious conclusion to draw is that we’re at fault. And he’s not wrong, because you’re sitting here, now, with us.”

“Sam, it’s worse than that. Think of what Benny said. Cas isn’t the only wizard to have gone missing, been killed. Except  _ they  _ don’t know that. Cas isn’t the first sacrifice. Who knows how long this has been going on?” Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand, feeling the minute shiver that ran through his body. No one looking would have noticed. Dean squeezed his hand and Castiel let out a soft sigh and it was his turn to lean into Dean for comfort.

“Every year without fail,” Sam whispered in horror. “How does no one notice that every year, without fail, a wizard goes missing? How? I thought someone tracked all wizards. That’s why we had to get certifications!”

“You know,” Castiel said, having calmed at Dean’s touch, “To stop Crowley, to stop this dark presence in the forest, there might actually be something in the house that could help. When I got here, I noticed the shelves were almost filled with books. Somewhere in there must be the first wizards’ books. Dean, you said that you were told the impermanence happened after the old wizard died, Missouri. That wizard probably was holding back whatever was in that forest. Once they were gone…the village would have been unprotected. It is strange that the wizard hadn’t arranged for a suitable replacement. But there must be something, some information about that in his or her journals. We just have to find it.”

“That’s brilliant, Cassie!” Gabriel exclaimed. “Why don’t you two finish eating and Sam and I’ll start looking for anything that might fit the bill?”

“Actually, that’s a great idea.” Sam stood up. “Will you be all right Dean?”

Dean waved him off. “I’m fine! How many times I gotta tell you? Besides, I got Cas. If something's wrong, he can yell for ya. It’s not like this place is all that big.” Exhausted from his speech, Dean slumped against Castiel again. Despite the worried look he sent Dean’s way, Sam shook his head and left with Gabriel.

“Are you still hungry, Dean?” Castiel asked. Dean eyed the food tray sitting across their laps, the little legs of the tray straddling their own legs. If either of them shifted in just the right way, the whole thing would go down and they’d have hot stew all over them.

“A little,” Dean admitted reluctantly. He didn’t want Cas to have to feed him. He hated being an invalid and unable to care for himself, but he’d already proved he couldn’t manage a spoon, much to his regret. Dean hated this feeling. Cas seemed to sense it though.  _ Was that a side effect of being bonded? _ Dean wondered.

Castiel reached for more of the bread and tore it into chunks. Leaving most of it on the tray, he took a piece and dunked it into the stew, then leaned over to eat it. Dean hummed happily as he realized Cas had given him a way to feel more like himself. He’d make less of a mess if his hands shook eating like that, then if he was using the spoon and he eagerly reached for the pieces and immediately used them in the same fashion.

Still, as hungry as Dean had thought he was, it didn’t take much to fill him up. Castiel mopped up the last of the stew with the bread, not leaving anything behind. They drained their drinks and then pushed the tray aside so that it no longer bracketed their legs.

“We could be out of our league here.” Dean finally spoke up sleepily, his body warm and content in its place against Castiel. He didn’t want to burst the bubble of safety and happiness the two of them had going but…they couldn’t just ignore the outside world.

Especially when some of it actually _ was _ out to get him. And Sam, Cas and Gabe.

What kind of chances did the four of them have against some ancient, unnamed evil?

Castiel seemed to sense his thoughts as he lay his head tiredly into Dean’s, allowing his eyes to close and pulling Dean closer with a shiver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et portasti subausculto = Guided Eavesdrop


	10. Digging Into the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the only chapter that has an in chapter break like this in two POV's but I think it'll make sense. i'm sure you will all agree, the first part was definitely NOT long enough to be given its own chapter, like when Cas had his POV shift

_She watched the young wizards. As usual, she felt so powerless. In her death, she’d been bound, useless and straining to be heard—_

_To warn—_

_To help._

_How many had been lost because she wasn’t strong enough?_

_At least the last one, that Castiel, had an idea of what and who they were up against. He could warn the others. But they needed more._

_They needed her knowledge._

_All that had happened—she’d warned the people of Canisbay—warned the village chief._

_Why hadn’t they listened to her words?_

_Or Joshua’s?_

_She’d been hoarding her strength for a while with no idea what action she could take that would not be a waste, but she had to do something._

_If she could just act once she was going to make it count, by all the gods._

_And if these boys succeeded then the darkness could no longer hold her—torment her with the knowledge of her uselessness. If they succeeded, the bonds would fade and she could join Joshua in their eternal rest. She was so tired…_

_At the mention of the darkness, at the request of knowledge, seeing the mages searching for her books, she knew she’d finally found her chance._

_She waited till they entered her workshop—the one she’d once shared with her bonded, Joshua—and gathered in all her strength, all her will._

_She’d only get one chance at this._

* * *

 

Gabriel and Sam came back quicker than expected, waking Dean from his light doze on Castiel’s shoulder. He blinked and moved to sit up, but Castiel reached an arm around to hold him in place.

“Stay, Dean, just rest,” he murmured into Dean’s ear.

Dean grunted and let himself relax against his bonded once more, his eyes tracking Sam and Gabe’s progress into the room. Sam held a large, old book in his hands and—if Dean wasn’t mistaken—it was the very book he’d been looking through himself these past few weeks. Or however long it had been. He was starting to lose track and was too tired to make the effort to figure it out more accurately.

Still, at the sight of it Dean sat up straighter, pulling slightly away from Castiel. He thought he heard the man make a noise and he reached down to thread his fingers into Cas’s hand. Then Dean looked at Sam. “Is that—?”

“The book you’ve been reading? Yeah, it is. It was right under our noses this entire time. How much did you read?” Sam’s voice was accusing and Dean bristled.

“Hey, I wasn’t looking for some ancient evil,” Dean snapped, “I was looking for other things.”

“Like what?” Sam pushed.

“Like something that could help _you_ and failing that, a way to insulate this place—again, to help _you_. I mean, I had no idea it was Cas at the time, causing all those cold spots, so…” Dean trailed off. Sam huffed, apparently mollified by Dean’s answer as he flipped through the book.

The room was silent once more and Dean closed his eyes again. Sam was a faster and more thorough reader than him. If the answers were indeed truly in that book, it was in their best interests to allow Sam to peruse it.

“Why do you treat your brother like that?” Dean froze at Castiel’s question.

“What?” Sam asked, stunned. Dean didn’t dare open his eyes. Didn’t want to.

“Cassie!” Gabriel hissed.

“In the short time I’ve been awake, you’ve berated him multiple times. From what he told me of the events leading up to today, you do it often enough that it seems a matter of course to him.  I don’t understand why. _Or_ why he lets you.” Castiel didn’t take Gabriel’s hint.

“No offense, Castiel, I know the two of you have bonded but I think my brother and I know each other better than you do. I have no idea where this is coming from, but I love my brother.” Dean nearly winced at Sam’s tone. _No offense indeed_.

“Your love is not in question, Sam. It’s obvious by the way you _both_ worry about the other that you and Dean care about each other greatly. What I don’t understand is why you treat him as less than he is.”

“I don’t do that!” Sam protested.

“Cas, it’s okay,” Dean interjected.

“No, Dean, it’s not,” Castiel said, turning sad blue eyes on Dean.

Dean gulped under their concern but found the strength to speak up again, “Nah, see, Sammy’s the smart one, it’s not a problem.”

“Not a problem? Dean, you _are_ smart! Anyone who’s done what you and Sam have done would have to be smart. You couldn’t have passed the wizard trials if you weren’t! There’s a reason most schools don’t allow self-taught wizards to take the tests. Mostly, they die. They haven’t had proper training. To be able to teach yourselves…with the life you have lead. You didn’t have any advantages, but you’ve prevailed over people who’ve formally studied all their lives.” Castiel was breathing hard, his eyes fiery and passionate as he finished his speech, leaving Dean gaping.

Castiel turned back to Sam. “So yes, Sam, when I say you treat him as less than he is, I mean it. He obviously believes it, which means you’ve reinforced this belief often enough that _Dean_ believes he’s less than he is. So I ask again, why do you treat him like this, when you obviously care about him? Why do you patronize him?”

“I do not patronize my brother! I’m looking out for him when he does stupid shit!” Sam protested again.

“Like what?” Castiel asked.

Sam gaped at Castiel, being put on the spot as he was. He closed and opened a few times before finding any words. “Do you know how many times he’s gotten us chased out of town? How many opportunities he’s lost us because of his stupidity?”

Dean shrank back against Castiel, knowing what his brother was talking about. The old guilt rising in him. He jerked in surprise at the growl coming from Castiel and remembered that he’d told the other mage about _why_ they’d been chased out of town all those times.

“So you would wish your brother to be unhappy and alone for all his life?” Castiel’s words were thrown out around gritted teeth, the arm around Dean tightening.

“Wh-wh-what?” Sam asked, startled, “Of course I don’t! Why would I wish that on anyone— _especially_ my brother?”

“Then why would you begrudge him seeking companionship in the only places he could find it? Or do you really accept your brother as he is?”

“Of course I do! I’ve always supported Dean, I just wish he’d be more careful than he’s been. There are sure to be better ways to go about…” Sam faltered, “seeking companionship.”

“Sam,” Gabriel laid a hand on the other man’s arm, “It’s hard enough for the people who are able to be open about who they like to find someone for themselves. It’s harder for people like our brothers who have to hide themselves from an unaccepting society. I’m not saying it’s right, but the strain it puts on them, on those like them, it’s hard. Dean taking risks so he wouldn’t be alone—that’s not stupidity, that’s being human. And if that’s all your evidence, I think you need to take a step back and rethink your attitude a bit.”

Sam blinked at the words and swallowed.

"In the meantime, our brothers still need to recover, Dean especially, which I suspect is why he's been so quiet. Dean doesn't strike me as the quiet type." Gabriel smirked. "Anyway, you have a lot to think about and we have research to do. Let's leave our brothers to it."

Sam nodded slowly, then looked at where the two mages, despite Castiel’s' recent assertiveness, were huddled together, looking awful. Better than they had been, but Gabriel was right. "Do you need any—" Sam started to offer, but Castiel glared at him.

"I think we can manage, Sam," Castiel gritted out tiredly. Dean could feel the tenseness in his bonded’s body. Sam gave a jerky nod, and left, Gabriel lingering for a moment behind him. But with a slight nod at Castiel, and Dean, he followed after Sam.

Castiel spent the next few minutes rearranging the two of them, and Dean attempted to help. But Gabriel had been right. What little strength he'd felt he'd regained earlier seemed to have fled after the two spells he'd cast in near rapid succession. Sam was right, that _had_ been stupid of him.

"Are you all right Dean? I'm sorry if I overstepped, but I couldn't stand by..."

Dean sighed and snuggled in close to Cas, trying to muster up the energy to speak. "He's not wrong, Cas, I have done some stupid things in my life."

"So have we all. That doesn't excuse his behavior," Castiel said softly.

“Sam’s not like that. He always has my back and I have his,” Dean protested again before falling silent, drifting, lost in his thoughts yet too exhausted to really focus on them. Gabriel had been right—if he’d been less affected than he was, Dean would not have stayed quiet. The look on Sam’s face was…was…

Well, it was something Dean often strived to make sure would never appear but at the same time, he could not deny that he’d felt a little satisfaction at seeing it.

And the warm and fuzzy feeling he had when Castiel had stuck up for him was so unfamiliar, but already so welcome.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel murmured.

“For what?”

“Your brother is right. Despite how we’ve somehow bonded, I don’t actually know you aside from what I’ve heard today. I apologize for…sticking my nose in,” Cas finished in a gruff, anxious tone.

“It’s…it’s okay, Cas. I guess…I just never really thought about it. I mean Sam and I, it’s just the way it’s always been.” Dean reached out to grab Cas’s hands and ground himself, twining their fingers together.

“Doesn’t make it right…or my place to disrupt it,” Cas said meekly. It made Dean bristle. Meek was not an impression he got from Cas, but then, neither of them were at their best right now.

“Look, I—maybe I didn’t mind it, okay? It might have been a good idea to shake things up for Sam. Maybe we’ve been established in this rut for too long.”

“Tell me about yourself? About growing up? Help me know you better?”

“Not much to tell, Cas.” Dean grimaced.

“Please?”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I already told you how Sam and I grew up on the road, our parents dragging us from town to town. Sometimes we even had periods where we had a regular circuit. We’d hit Singers in the winter, Harvelle's in the summer. Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle were two of our teachers after we’d surpassed our parents’ ability. Then we’d travel through Campbell territory in the spring, help them with planting, and come fall we’d pull through the Walkers’ territory and help with the harvest.

“When I turned 16, that changed. Sam was 12 and, I dunno, something happened and we never went back that way. It was just after mom had died and dad made us promise _never_ to go that route, that we’d outstayed our welcome.”

“And you have no idea what happened?” Cas breathed.

“No.” Dean sighed. “I never liked the Walkers. Something always struck me as off with them. And the Campbells always seemed less than pleased to see us, but I wish…I always wanted to know how Bobby and Rufus were doing. How Ellen and Jo were.”

“Maybe you should go back and find out?” Castiel suggested quietly.

Dean shook his head. “I dunno, Dad must have had a good reason.” For the first time in a long time, Dean hesitated.

“What is it?”

“Maybe…I…Dad and Bobby had a fight after mom died. I think it was about Rufus. I never really thought about it but…what if…” Dean clamped his mouth shut and squeezed Castiel’s fingers tight enough to make the other man wince. Dean forced himself to loosen his grip. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What were you thinking?”

“What if Bobby and Rufus were…like us? Dad never really approved—what if it’s _my_ fault we never went back? What if he suspected about me all along, even before I understood myself and just thought, maybe, that removing me from their influence would change me?”

“It doesn’t really work that way,” Castiel murmured softly, stroking a hand through Dean’s hair.

“Yeah, I know, but that wouldn’t have stopped Dad.” Dean sighed. “Let’s talk about something else. How about you, Cas? How’d you come to be here, in the middle of nowhere again?”

“I was one of many children, but I’m closest to Gabe. We all grew up at the school—that’s the Shurley school—so I had an early start to my training, as did any of my brothers or sisters who cared to learn. Not all did. I don’t have much experience outside of that. I told you how I didn’t fit in, the rumors that started? Gabe found me this post to let me start fresh. Even before all…this…happened, I almost ruined it all.”

Dean made an inquiring noise, concern rising in him.

“I told you, I’m not very socially apt. I’d always buried myself too much in my studies, and when the villagers refused to talk to me, I just, I accepted it. Yet I was lonely,” Cas blushed. “I finally got Benny to start talking with me and I was a little less lonely—“

“Oh gods! You had a thing for Benny!” Dean chortled and Cas blushed again.

“No!” Castiel denied quickly. Not the quickness of the sort of denial that covered the truth, but was in all actuality, the truth itself. Dean relaxed some as Cas continued. “Not so much a thing as appreciative. He was nice to talk to and I’m sure you’ve seen how he likes to do his more physically demanding work.”

“Oh yeah, no shirt. Definitely drool worthy, I’ll admit,” Dean said with a grin, squeezing Cas’s hand to let him know it was all right.

“I was never sure if I was more disappointed or relieved when I discovered he was already bonded.” Castiel slid one hand around to cup at the handprint on Dean’s shoulder, though he could not see it under the loose tunic Dean wore. Both of them know what was there, just under Cas’s burning fingertips.

“I know what you mean. I thought of approaching him several times before I noticed, but the idea that I couldn’t just walk away if it went wrong, or if he took offense held me back.” Dean paused. “So how long did it take you to discover he was already bonded?”

“Probably longer than I should have. Luckily, I never seriously entertained the idea of cultivating more than simple friendship with him.”

“Hmm…I suppose there’s no need to be jealous then.” Dean yawned.

“Dean, maybe you should rest. Both of us should rest,” Cas suggested.

“I feel like that’s all we’ve done for _days_ ,” Dean grumped, ending in another yawn.

“And yet, I feel like I could do with more sleep. We’ll need to do all we can to recover our strength if we have to fight,” Cas noted pragmatically. He was yawning now too, eyes blinking heavily.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean leaned in for a kiss and Cas obeyed the unspoken demand willingly. They fell asleep like that, atop the bedding, curled into each other with tangled limbs and content smiles.

 


	11. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Part 2

The next time Dean woke up, he felt much better. He managed to roll off the bed and stand on his own two feet without falling over, at any rate. So that counted as much better in his book. Even if he staggered some and had to lean heavily on the edge of the bed before shoving off and carefully walking forward.

Still. It was progress.

He hadn’t gone far when a grumble behind him turned him around, and he laughed at the sight of Castiel groping at the bed with a small frown when he didn’t find Dean. His eyes popped open and he looked about blearily before sitting up. Blinking, Castiel’s eyes finally fell on Dean, “What’s so funny?”

Dean snorted, “Nothing. Just…you. Us.” He shrugged then held a hand out for Castiel to take. Castiel eyed it dubiously before giving his own shrug and taking it. Together they stood and neither fell over and Castiel hummed happily. Dean grinned back. “I know, feels good, right?”

“I still can’t believe that…that I’m alive,” Castiel said.  “Dean, I don’t know how to thank you enough, for the risk you took, it was immense.”

Dean blushed and scratched at his head as he ducked down a little, breaking eye contact. “Nah, you don’t, you don’t gotta thank me, Cas. It just felt like the right thing to do.” Dean looked back up to find Castiel  _ much  _ closer than before, their noses almost brushing, those bright blue eyes staring into his. Dean gulped, Castiel’s hot breath sending goosebumps over his skin.

“Can I kiss you, Dean?” The question was soft, tremulous, shaking just the tiniest bit.

Dean gulped. He understood how Cas felt. “You don’t have to ask, Cas. I thought we um, settled that yesterday?”

“It feels unreal, like a dream. I thought I must have imagined it all, and yet…”

“Wasn’t a dream, Cas, I promise.” Dean’s voice was hushed in his assurance to Castiel.

“Oh, thank all that is holy,” Castiel breathed before closing the miniscule distance between them, lips barely touching. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut with a whimper at the soft touch. Together, without conscious thought, they deepened the kiss. Dean couldn’t say how long they stood there like that, before they were interrupted by a strangled sound.

Castiel pulled back first, Dean chasing after blindly before the voices of their brothers pierced through the daze and he opened his eyes.

“Well, it’s great to see the two of you are getting along like a house on fire, but we thought we should get a move on things,” Gabriel said with a grin.

Dean and Castiel followed Gabriel and Sam out to the kitchen, where food was already laid out on the table. Dean quickly looked around to make sure they were alone and Sam made a face.

“What, you don’t think I’d check before I came and got you?” Sam asked, hurt clear in his voice.

“What? No, I just…how did you explain that you’re suddenly feeding four?” Dean evaded.

Castiel nodded thoughtfully, “That is an excellent question.”

“Oh, ah, well, as to that, you two haven’t really been eating all that much, so it didn’t really come up,” Sam explained.

“Also, we anticipated that would change once you woke up. So we told one of the girls – who was it?” Gabriel leaned over to look at Sam as they all settled around the table.

“Eileen.” Sam blushed. Dean snickered, suddenly remembering his thoughts that seemed like they’d come from a lifetime ago.

“Ah, yes, the lovely Eileen. Right, so we told her that Sam was hitting a growth spurt—“ Dean snorted, spraying his tea over the table while Gabriel grinned.

Castiel rolled his eyes and muttered to Dean, “He times things like that on purpose. Imagine growing up with him.”

“I’d rather not. Growing up with the moose was bad enough,” Dean whispered back, not caring if anyone heard or not.

Cas gave him a strange look, “Moose? You kept a moose? Did you ride it? What was that like?”

Dean blinked at him in astonishment even as Gabriel burst into howling fits of laughter. “Oh gods, no! Little bro, he’s teasing his brother!”

Gabriel fell off his chair with a muffled curse and nobody moved to help him up. Sam looked down at him and shook his head. “Serves you right.”

“So, what’d you guys figure out while we were—“ Dean paused, face paling slightly as he rethought the words he was about to say. They hit too close to home, “—sleeping.”

“Dean, are you all right?” Sam stared at Dean. Dean looked down at his food and started shoveling it in, distracting Sam from his question. His brother narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. “Gods, Dean, we have company.”

“I can’t help it, Sammy, I’m just so hungry! I feel like I haven’t eaten for a week.”

“Actually, I feel the same,” Castiel noted, digging into his own food just as enthusiastically, though he did swallow before he spoke.

“Yeah, well, that’s not far from the truth.” Gabriel shrugged and sipped his tea. Dean and Castiel stopped and looked at him. “What?”

“How long were we…how long did we sleep for?” Dean asked slowly.

“Which time?” Gabriel winked.

“The two of you both collapsed right after the spell finished, and that was almost a week ago,” Sam explained. “Then you woke up yesterday for a couple hours and now you’re awake again and it’s the afternoon. There were some intermittent times where one or both of you would open your eyes. You’d almost seem awake but then you’d be out again seconds later.”

“Hmm, I think I remember some of that,” Dean mused.

“As do I,” Castiel agreed.

“Sometimes, you actually managed to hold out a whole three minutes before you conked out again.” Gabriel chortled. Dean wanted to say something scathing to Gabriel, who wasn’t taking anything very seriously, but then he noticed the white knuckled grip on the mug held in both of Gabriel’s hands. He was very affected by all that had happened, all that may yet happen, he just refused to show it.

Dean could understand that. Where Gabriel’s coping mechanism was to never take things seriously—or so it seemed—Dean had a habit of resorting to sarcasm. Which was sort of the same thing, now that he thought about it.  _ Huh, guess I have more in common with Gabe than I thought. _

A rhythmic sound intruded on the silence that befell the kitchen and Dean found his head turning to look out the window. He could just make out Benny from this angle. He blinked and turned back to his brother and the other two wizards.

“So, how many people, exactly, know what’s happening right now?”

“Just us four. We’re keeping Crowley in the dark and since we can’t be sure who’s with him, everyone else in Canisbay as default,” Sam said quietly. He looked down at his hands and Dean knew what he was thinking.

“Hey, I’m sure most of the villagers—your Eileen included—aren’t in on this. Probably not even aware.” 

Sam gave him a wan smile. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean huffed a little in embarrassment, then ground out around another mouthful of food he’d shoved into his mouth, “So what do we know? You guys were studying that journal last night and all.”

“Well, from what we could piece together, an ancient power lives in the forest. Neither good, nor evil, it just  _ is _ . It’s been sealed away for who knows how long. The wizard that wrote this certainly didn’t. All the knowledge of the power was passed down orally until this book,” Sam’s mouth curled up around that distastefully. He’d always loved books and Dean knew it was an affront to him that this hadn’t been written down. “It used to be a familial line that lived here.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at that and looked around at the small cottage pointedly. “A little small for that, don’t ya think?”

“Yeah, I guess most of the family actually lived in the village. The wizards themselves came up here to do their work. As the family line dwindled, the last wizard and her bonded—Missouri and Joshua—gave up living in the village and stayed here. She details the struggle she had getting anyone to apprentice with her so that she didn’t leave the place unprotected. Then Joshua passed in his sleep and a few months later, the journal ends.”

“That’s it?” Dean paused in his eating to ask.

“No, of course not.” Sam huffed. “There’s a place where she talks about the power in the forest and what she does to keep it bound and sleeping. It’s easy enough to do, but it’s uh, tedious, constant. One slip up and…she says it’s not pretty. It’s woken up before, and the village has always suffered for it before the wizard in charge could get it back under control again.”

“Missouri wrote that the power—the darkness as it was called by some, also known as Amara—nearly broke free three times prior. When it does, darkness and fog cover the land—“ Gabe picked up the thread and Sam nodded along.

“That explains the name,” Dean mused.

“—and people are struck down by a strange sickness. The body is covered in thick black veins—patterned almost like spider webs. And when the sickness spreads, the affected turn. They attack anyone in their sights. Hunt them down, kill them,” Gabe continued, as Sam looked up, his mouth twisting, “and rumors have it, eating the flesh of their neighbors and loved ones like an animal.”

Dean and Cas shuddered at the words. Gabe and Sam, prepared for it, still visibly swallowed.

“But none of that’s happened here,” Castiel pointed out.

“How is none of that evil?” Dean asked at nearly the same moment as Cas spoke.

“What?” Sam startled.

“Both of them have a point.” Gabriel looked over at Sam, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Sam shrugged. “I know what the wizard here details. She does mention a couple of apprentices—a Fergus and Rowena MacLeod—but didn’t put all that much faith in them. She particularly worried about Rowena, felt she was too scheming and petty to be trusted with the task, though Rowena was perfectly capable of fulfilling it.”

“So…what do you think happened then? I mean, what happened to the apprentices? There’s no sign of them anywhere, is there?” Dean asked, turning to Castiel. “You lived here a lot longer than we have. Have you seen any signs of them?”

Castiel hummed a little as he looked up, thinking, his head tilted slightly. His fingers dropped his fork to the plate and fidgeted. He turned to look out the window and blinked, then turned back to the room. “I can’t recall seeing any sign of them in the cottage but…I think I have heard of them. From Benny.” He gave the other wizards a long look. “Maybe we should ask him inside? We have enough magic between all of us that we should be able to determine if he’s telling the truth or not.”

“What if he’s not?” Dean asked quietly. He didn’t believe Benny would be in on something this horrible, not for a second. But what if Dean was wrong?

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Gabe said with a crack of his knuckles. He stood up. “I’ll just go and call him in, yeah?”

“Whoa there, Gabe, slow down.” Sam grabbed Gabriel’s shirt and yanked him back down in his seat. “No one even knows you’re here, remember? Should be me or Dean. And since Dean’s still under the weather—“ Dean opened his mouth to protest and Sam glared at him. Dean shut his mouth again and glared back, but stayed quiet, “—that means me.”

This time, it was Sam who stood. Dean had to admit that his brother looked and sounded loads better than he had before. Sam walked out of the kitchen and Dean could hear his footsteps moving through the tiny cottage. Dean looked over at Gabe.

“So, we’ve only got four chairs in here. I think we may need another one and since Cas and I are invalids…” Dean trailed off with a smirk.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll grab one from the workroom.”

Within seconds, Castiel and Dean were left alone in the kitchen. Dean reached over to take Castiel’s hands in his and curl his fingers together, taking comfort in the warmth of Castiel’s touch. “You know, we all may still die here. Do you…regret being brought back?”

“Of course not, Dean. How could I? If I hadn’t—if you hadn’t brought me back, I wouldn’t be here, with you.” Castiel lifted his unoccupied hand to brush across Dean’s face and Dean closed his eyes with a sigh, leaning in to the touch.

“Okay, Cas, I just…I wanted to be sure. I feel so selfish right now that, I dunno...” Dean trailed off again.

“We’re all allowed to be a little selfish, every now and then,” Castiel assured Dean, trailing his hand down to cup Dean’s jaw.

Dean shrugged, unconvinced. “Yeah, well, tell that to Sam.”

“Gods above…” the hoarse whisper from the door startled them out of their moment. They jerked away from each other uneasily at being caught so intimately, looking up to find the kitchen was crowded once more. Gabriel had returned with the chair and was smirking at Dean and Castiel. Sam was standing behind a shocked Benny, making sure the man didn’t turn tail and run when presented with the wizard whom he’d been told was dead—yet obviously was very much alive.

“Benny! It’s okay, if you sit, we’ll explain everything.” Dean half stood, anxious to reassure the man he’d hoped could be his friend. After this? Well, who knew anymore.

“You…you said he was dead. Cas, they said you were dead!” Benny’s eyes were wide as Sam gently steered him towards a chair. For once, in his shock, Benny hadn’t used the honorific he always used for the wizards. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Dean would have been amused.

“The rumors of my death were not exaggerated. I’m still somewhat in shock that I’m not dead either. Your reaction is perfectly understandable,” Cas agreed.

“Benny, remember what we talked about the other day?” Dean started. Benny gave a shaky, if somewhat dubious nod. “Right, well, we were right. Something _ is  _ wrong. Someone is murdering the wizards that take this post—sacrificing them. We need to figure out who and why.”

“How can I possibly help with that? We weren’t supposed to talk to any wizards,” Benny protested.

“Well, we know for sure now that it was Crowley who did it. Sam and I thought it suspicious that he’d tell you all one thing and us another, but when we were able to…rescue…Cas, he confirmed that Crowley had killed him,” Dean explained.

“That still doesn’t tell me how I’m supposed to be of help,” Benny noted.

“Benny, have you ever heard of the Darkness or Amara? How about Fergus and Rowena MacLeod?” Dean asked.

“Wait, Dean, before we get started, we need to cast the truth spell.” Sam turned to Benny. “No offense to you, Benny. We’re pretty certain you weren’t involved in anything, but a lot is at stake here, and we need to be absolutely sure.”

“Um, no offense taken.” Benny eyed them all uncertainly, his gaze falling on Gabriel, whom no one had seen fit to introduce.

“ _ Nisi vero loqui _ ,” Dean muttered. He wavered in his seat and Cas caught him before he could fall out of it.

“Dean, you shouldn’t have done that!” Castiel chided. “We’re neither of us recovered enough for such expenditures. You should have let Sam or my brother—”

“Couldn’t, Cas, we’re the only two who can do the incantations,” Dean said, leaning into Castiel’s arms gratefully, forgetting momentarily the presence of someone else who might not have approved of their budding relationship.

“Huh,” Benny said thoughtfully as he looked about the room, taking in the wizards he knew and the one he didn’t. Taking in the closeness of Castiel and Dean and the worried looks pretty much everyone was sporting at the moment. He cleared his throat. “So um, there are tales about the Darkness. The wizards here are supposed to keep it at bay. And I do remember the names MacLeod but…they disappeared after Missouri died. We all, well, we all thought that she had failed and they’d been killed right along with her but…it was strange.”

“What was strange?” Sam nearly jumped on Benny’s words.

Benny shrugged. “Nothing happened.” 

“What do you mean, nothing happened?” Gabriel’s voice was sharp and disbelieving.

“The stories say when Amara is loose death comes to the village, but…the only deaths have been natural things. Except for—” Benny waved a hand at Castiel. “Not that any of us knew about that.”

“How long ago did all this start? And um…when did Crowley become chief?” Dean pushed off Castiel a little to look at Benny when he asked the question.

Benny paused, a considering look on his face. “Well, I don’t rightly remember how long ago. Maybe a decade or two? It’s been a while.” He shrugged apologetically. “But I do remember that Crowley took up the mantle of Chief about that time.”

“What do you know about Crowley?” Sam asked.

“He’s the chief.” Benny shrugged. “What else is there to know?”

The wizards all exchanged looks with each other, then Sam spoke up again. “Yeah, but, he’s been the chief for a long time, Benny, surely you must know  _ something  _ about him. Such as, was he born in this village?”

“Well now, Master Sam, I find I can’t answer that question. It was…it was like he appeared out of nowhere, but everyone trusted him instantly. I can’t even remember why.”

“And if that isn’t troubling anyone, on top of everything else, then you must be pretty damn dense,” Gabriel said.

“Trust me, it’s bothering me plenty,” Dean retorted.

“So what now?” Cas asked.

“I say the next step is to capture Crowley. The only way we’re gonna get answers is to ask him. And the only way we’re going to stop further murders is to stop him. Crowley’s at the crux of it all, so that’s what I say we do,” Dean said grimly.

“That won’t be easy, Dean,” Sam answered, “But I agree. Something has to be done and done fast before he does any more damage. The only question is, what are we dealing with? Does Crowley know magic? Or is he being aided by something? After all, he has managed to trick countless people and get the drop on a number of wizards. We need to be prepared for whatever he can pull against us.”

“At least we have an advantage,” Gabe pointed out, “He doesn’t know that we know. That we’re suspicious. He doesn’t know there’s four wizards here and not two. He doesn’t know Cassie’s alive. And  _ we  _ know he’s due for another unscheduled visit tomorrow. We’ve got time to lay a trap. Benny, can we count you in?”

With a swallow and a nod, Benny answered, “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nisi vero loqui = Speak only truth
> 
> I had a hard time picking where to put this second picture - it could have fit 2 different scenes very easily. Finally, though, it was so sweet, that i decided to keep it with the hand holding moment in this chapter instead of the research mode in chapter 13 :D


	12. The Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Finale - Part 3: Begins

In the end, they kept it simple.

They knew Crowley would come to them. All they had to do was get ready.

Unfortunately, they didn’t know what Crowley was  _ capable _ of. Cas couldn’t recall how he’d been taken unawares and bound. Sam quietly suggested that a demon deal might have been responsible and everyone froze, thinking through the implications of that.

“Dean, you’ll need to paint an arc over here,” Cas coached Dean as they created the Devil's Trap on the floor of the front room.

“But the book’s diagram says—“ Dean protested.

“That book is wrong. Here.” Cas pushed his forward. “I know you and Sam would prefer to use your own books but, the scribe messed up those volumes. They were all supposed to have been recalled and replaced—at no cost to the wizard—but obviously one or two escaped. Probably from the way you two lived, no one had been able to track down this copy. It’s amazing nothing has gone wrong before this.”

“Wait, Cas, is…is that why the ghost warding didn’t work?” Dean looked up at Cas in horror, thinking about how close they’d probably come over the years to not making it because of a book error.

“What? Oh!” Cas nodded, “Yes, I think so.”

“Just wonderful. I mean, in your case it worked out, so I’m glad but…” Dean shook his head and bent back down towards his work. “All right, let me know what I need to fix.”

While Cas and Dean prepared the Devil's Trap, something they could at least work on without exhausting themselves, Sam and Gabe had gone outside to prepare other sigils along the outside walls of the cottage. They wanted to bind Crowley inside and they wanted him powerless. But since they didn’t know what he was capable of, they had to use everything they could think of. Sam had shown Cas and Dean the sigils they planned to use, Cas making a few small corrections on some of them before approving the rest. Gabriel’s part was to do what he’d done on Lammas Night and use stonework to make the sigils permanent.

“What I don’t get, Cassie, is how the sigils we draw to bind any power Crowley might have won’t affect us? I mean, we’re hobbling ourselves, aren’t we?” Gabriel squinted at Cas worriedly as he spoke.

“Only inside the cottage, Gabe. And I think the four of us could overpower one individual. And once we have him trapped inside the smaller, inner circle in the workroom, then we can take off the ones that apply to us, free ourselves to act as needed.”

Sam nodded, as did Dean. Though no one liked a plan that left them powerless, however temporarily, it was the best they could come up with.

Benny helped where he could. You didn’t need magic to copy a picture from a book, so he’d been set to help Sam and Gabriel with the outside sigils, since they had a lot of area to cover. After final visual approval from Cas, Gabriel ‘adjusted’ the new warding, making it permanent and hiding it inside the stonework so that it wouldn’t tip Crowley off.

They just had to hope it worked.

After that, they sent Benny home at the end of their long day with the admonishment  _ not  _ to come by the next day. To pretend an illness or something. Whatever happened tomorrow, they wanted no innocent lives in the crossfire.

The four of them stood in the workroom, around the chair that stood in the middle, surrounded by another Devil's Trap and every other sigil they could think to bind Crowley. As well as the more physical restraints like rope and chains. On the work table were vials of anything they could think of, such as holy water and liquid silver.

“Do you think this will be enough?” Dean asked quietly.

“Gods, I hope so,” Gabriel answered.

“Dean, you and Castiel—“ Sam started. Dean rounded on his brother.

“No. We’re not sitting this out. We are not going to just walk away and leave you to deal with—with whatever Crowley is all by yourselves. You’re my brother—“

“Our brothers,” Cas rumbled out, looking at Gabriel.

“Right, and we’re not leaving. We don’t know what Crowley has up his sleeve and we’re not letting you face it alone. We may be a little…worse for wear, but we could be the difference needed, the little bit extra to tip the scales in our balance,” Dean insisted.

“Dean’s right,” Cas agreed quietly but firmly. “We do this together. Now I suggest we all get some rest. Whatever happens tomorrow, we’re going to need it.”

“Fine,” Sam said in exasperation, only a slight cough ruining his agreement. It was Dean’s turn to look at him in worry, but after staring at Sam for a few moments, Dean relaxed. Sam looked and sounded  _ better _ than he had in weeks. Dean let out a breath.

“Wait, where have you two been sleeping anyway? If me an’ Cas have the only bed?”

“The front room,” Sam shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Like I’ve said, we’ve slept in worse places than a floor before.”

Gabriel shot Sam a look of surprise and Dean smirked at his expression. Obviously, Sam hadn’t been as forthright with Gabriel as Dean had been with Cas.

“Just, go to bed Dean,” Sam said with a smirk. “And take Castiel with you.”

Dean blushed and stammered and Gabriel outright laughed. A hand crept into his and Dean looked down to see Cas’s hand intertwined with his. His heart beat a little faster. A small tug had Dean following Cas out of the workroom and their brothers exchanging looks.

“Don’t even think about it! Dean!” Sam groaned and Dean flashed him a smirk before disappearing from view. As they entered the shared room and readied themselves for bed, Dean suddenly made a realization. Gabriel called his brother Cassie and Sam called him by his full name, while Dean had taken to not only calling him Cas aloud because it was easier and quicker, but also in his own thoughts. He wondered at himself, how quickly they’d become so familiar with each other. Dean had never felt so right about anything before.

Settling onto the bed together, Cas shook his head at Dean with his own smile, breaking into Dean’s thoughts. “Your brother is right. We shouldn’t do anything tonight.”

“I know. I don’t want us to move too fast anyway, but the look on his face was priceless, wouldn’t you agree?” Dean chortled, pulling the blankets up and covering them both even as Cas pulled him closer.

“Maybe it was,” Cas agreed reluctantly. “But I’d rather get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Can I have a kiss first?” Dean whispered a little hesitantly.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas whispered back. It didn’t take much for either of them on that small bed to lean close enough for their lips to touch. Gods, Dean hoped this was all over soon. That their trap to hold Crowley worked, that he gave them the information they needed, that they managed to hold back the Darkness.

That maybe, when all was said and done, he and Cas could  _ be _ something. Curling together, the two of them fell asleep among languid kisses.

The next morning, Dean woke first, and he pulled away far enough to study Cas’s face. He ran a hand over Cas’s stubbled jaw and sighed before leaning over for a soft kiss, then pulling away again and rolling off the bed to his feet.

“All right, Cas, rise and shine,” Dean called out. Groggily, Cas lifted his head, yawned and pushed himself up. “Are you ready for today?”

“No. Are you?” Cas grumbled, his feet hitting the floor.

Dean shrugged and opened the door to the room, Cas following close behind him. Together they stepped into the front room to find two misshapen lumps of fabric – one in that stupid chair Sam had been using the other day (over a week ago, Dean corrected himself, having to force himself to remember he’d lost some time) and one on the floor. And it looked like Sam had taken the floor. Dean snorted to himself, knowing it was because the chair would have been too uncomfortable for too long every day. He  _ knew  _ it. Damn stubborn brothers.

“C’mon, up and at ‘em. We don’t wanna get caught by surprise now, do we Sammy?” Dean nudged at the lump on the floor. The Sam shaped lump groaned and reached a hand out of the blankets to swat at Dean’s foot. Gabriel yawned and stretched from his place in the chair without any prompting, his eyes snapping open.

“I demand coffee,” he muttered.

“Coffee?” Dean asked, looking over at Cas.

“We don’t  _ have _ any here, Gabe. I don’t drink it.” Castiel rolled his eyes and moved towards the kitchen.

Dean followed. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, it’s something he found on his travels. It’s really bitter, which I find disgusting. But then he sweetens it till it’s this unholy concoction. It’s sickening. But it does give one the ability to wake up a little faster. If you can stand the taste.” Cas nearly shuddered.

“Huh, sounds like something we could use about now. Tea never does seem to do much for me in the waking up department, no matter how useful it is otherwise,” Dean said even as he filled the teapot and pulled down mugs to set up.

“When this is over, I’ll have Gabriel bring you some, so you can try for yourself,” Cas said. Dean looked over in surprise that melted into a soft smile.

“Thanks, Cas,” he said softly.

Then their brothers stumbled in, and the quiet moment shattered.

The rest of the morning turned into a waiting game. They knew Crowley would be by soon, but the question of  _ when  _ was killing them. Knowing they would be powerless, the four of them armed themselves with a variety of weapons: hunting knives, kitchen cleavers, ceremonial (but still quite dangerous) daggers. All close combat weapons, but in the close quarters of the cottage, those sorts of weapons would be their best bet.

Finally, around the time Benny would have normally arrived for chores, there was a knock on the door. With a nervous look at each other, Gabriel and Cas stepped away and down the hall, each brother taking a doorway in the hall to stand in so they could hear but couldn’t be seen. This left Dean and Sam in the front room, all trace of guests easily wiped away. Wiping his hands on his pants, Dean stepped forward and opened the door.

Crowley stood there, a brow raised mockingly. “Well? Are you going to invite me in? Offer me a drink? I am your benefactor, after all. As quickly as I gave you this job, I can take it away again. Or is your brother well enough to travel, finally? Hmm?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, come on in.” He stepped back and gave Crowley space. Sam was ‘bundled’ up in the chair with a book on his lap, pretending to look sick and helpless. Crowley stepped inside and stopped, giving Sam a questioning look.

“I take it back. I thought your brother on the mend, but it looks like he’s had a bit of a relapse. Maybe you might try calling in some expert help, since obviously, you have no idea what you’re doing. I don’t know  _ why _ I hired such incompetent wizards,” Crowley snarked, his lips curling upwards in a sneer. He took a few more steps inward, right through the Devil's Trap without a hitch.

Well, at least they knew  _ he  _ wasn’t a demon. That was a plus.

Crowley made for the kitchen with the ease of long practiced steps, leaving Dean and Sam behind him. With Cas and Gabriel before him, Crowley was unknowingly surrounded. Assured of the lack of Demon powers, the four wizards attacked, rushing toward Crowley and seizing his arms. As soon as Dean snatched them, pinning Crowley’s hands behind his back, Sam leapt up from the chair, pushing the blankets easily aside and wrapping the hidden rope around Crowley’s wrists, tying them together.

Crowley spluttered, “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? I hired you morons! I can fire you just as easily! Let me go! The villagers will never stand for this!”

While he raved, Cas and Gabe stepped out of their doorways and into view. Upon sighting Cas, Crowley froze, his eyes gone wide. “You! You’re dead!” he spat out.

“Yeah, not so much,” Dean grunted, shoving Crowley forward. “Now march.”

Together, they took turns manhandling Crowley into the workroom at the back of the house, into the chair at the center of the circles and—with his hands still bound together—they tied him to the chair around his waist and arms, and around his feet.

Thus secured, the four wizards took several steps back. Gabriel leaned against the wall by the door—just in case—while Sam sat at the desk, and Cas and Dean pulled out the bench at the low work table and sat beside each other. Each one of them kept their weapons in easy reach as they stared at Crowley.

“How’d you do it?” Dean asked first.

“Do what?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’ve been overpowering wizards and sacrificing them for over a decade. You appeared out of thin air and became chief of an entire village with not a single soul to question you. You made a deal, right?” Dean leaned forward intently, his eyes narrowing.

“You don’t understand, I had to!” Crowley protested. “If you don’t let me go, we’re all in danger!”

“Right, because you didn’t already try to kill Cassie,” Gabriel growled from the door. “You  _ killed  _ my brother and you want me to let you  _ go _ ?”

“Your brother?” Crowley shook his head. “Look, that doesn’t matter.  _ None _ of that matters. He’s on his way. However you did it, as soon as you fools brought him back to life, Lucifer  _ knew _ . He’s threatened the village. He’s threatened  _ me _ !”

“Like we should care about you after what you’ve done.” Dean glared at the Chief. Beside him, he heard a sound and he saw Cas, looking pale and wide eyed at Crowley. “Cas, you okay?”

“I, yes, of course I am,” Cas answered weakly. He gave Dean a wan smile. “Don’t worry about me. We need answers. I’d like to know who Lucifer is.”

“Good question. We thought you sacrificed Cassie here in some unholy pact with the Darkness.” Gabriel started to clean his nails with his knife, making sure Crowley could see every movement.

“Are you  _ insane _ ? No one makes a pact with the Darkness! You either find a way to contain her or we’re all dead! So I found a way. And if that means a few measly wizards who have no clue what they’re doing get killed along the way, I think it’s a small price to pay for the safety of everyone else. Or did you think she’d stop at the village once she got loose?”

“Are you seriously trying to sell yourself as a  _ good _ guy here?” Dean looked at Crowley incredulously.

“Of course I am,” he puffed out. “Because I am. I’ve saved  _ countless  _ lives. Have you done any better?”

“Actually, we will. We’ve found the binding spells for the Darkness. We’re going to perform the ritual ourselves,” Sam said.

Crowley paled and gulped. “You…you found them?” He shook his head, “Won’t matter. Without anyone to teach you how to cast it right, you’ll just fail. The spell is difficult, even for someone who’s been trained.”

“Actually, the spell looks rather easy. It just has to be cast several times a month, in tandem with another wizard. We’ve got plenty of those here.” Sam held up the book. “So why don’t you tell us what you’re really hiding, why you’re really afraid?”

“Because he’s the wizard who failed,” Cas said quietly. Crowley began to sweat.

Dean turned to look at Cas, a startled look on his face, “Uh, what? How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“It makes sense. He’s afraid of the Darkness, what she can do if she gets loose. He  _ wants  _ her bound. He knows also of the binding spells, yet he doesn’t cast them. He doesn’t ask the wizards he hires to cast them. Why not? Unless he truly believes the spells won’t work, just as he says. And how would he have found that out unless it was him who had failed? And if something doesn’t work when you desperately need it to, you find another way. This Lucifer that you’re afraid of, the sacrifices were to him, weren’t they Crowley?”

Crowley yanked at his bindings, fear rolling off of him as he made desperate sounds. When he realized, finally, that he was going nowhere, he slumped. “Yes, yes they were. I made a deal with Lucifer to keep the Darkness at bay. The binding spell failed. Missouri died and I nearly died with her. I still don’t know what went wrong, but I had to do  _ something _ . I grew up here, I knew these people. They were family. And when Lucifer appeared before me, offering to help, I was desperate, I took the deal. There was nothing else I could do. And now I’m bound to him, bound to the deal, there’s no way to stop it. I can’t risk Canisbay.”

“Dear gods, you’re Fergus MacLeod,” Sam whispered. “I don’t understand, how did—?”

“It was part of the deal. Lucifer wiped the memories of the villagers. They might remember the MacLeod’s, but not what they looked like.” Crowley shrugged, dejected. “I became Crowley. With a new life, a new start, and with Lucifer’s help, I rose to a position of power, a position where I could exert some control over the post of Town Wizard. I was required to find him at least one soul per year. It was his price, the power he needed to keep the Darkness held down.”

“And what happened to Rowena?”

“You mean mother? She’s gone. I don’t know where. She never liked it here. She only came on as Missouri’s apprentice because she thought it would give her power.” Crowley shrugged. “To be honest, I never really liked her all that much, so I didn’t much care when she disappeared.”

Dean shuddered at the cavalier attitude Crowley had towards his mother. Dean wasn’t sure if that spoke of Crowley’s character or hers.

“So why didn’t you just tell the new wizards that you hired how to stop the Darkness?” Gabriel asked, “Why keep sacrificing them when you could have enlisted their help?”

“Have you ever broken a Demon deal before? I’ve seen it once, it’s not a pretty sight!” Crowley stared at them all like they were crazy. “I don’t deserve that! I was trying to do good!”

“Right, you keep telling yourself that,” Dean snarled and stood up, stomping out of the room. Cas followed after him. Dean stopped in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, his head bowed. Cas touched his shoulder, his hands shaking slightly. Dean sighed and turned to pull Cas into a hug. “You all right?” Dean asked quietly.

“As all right as I can be, facing the man who murdered me.” Castiel shuddered in Dean’s arms briefly. “Though, I must admit, I also feel sorry for him.”

“Sorry for him?” Dean pulled away from Cas, holding him by both shoulders and looking into his blue eyes. Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “No, Cas, what he did was wrong!”

“But for the right reasons,” Cas said quietly. “I’m not condoning what he did, but I think, I think I might understand it. He felt he had nowhere to turn, with the Darkness on the brink of breaking free and the only option before him a Demon.”

Dean frowned. “About that…how did that demon know to be there at that moment?”

“Wait, are you thinking—?” Cas looked up sharply. A considering light entered his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m thinking. That binding spell was sabotaged. Crowley and Missouri were set up. And the only option was—“

“Rowena. His own  _ mother  _ set him up?” Castiel shuddered again.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. What kind of mother would  _ do  _ that?” Dean agreed, pulling Cas back into his arms.

After a long few moments taking comfort in the other, Cas spoke, “I don’t get how any of this is going to help us. Knowing how Crowley set upon this tragic chain of events doesn’t help us stop it.”

“No, but now we  _ know  _ a demon is involved. We can prepare for it. And if we keep Crowley locked up here, then there will be no interference from him.” Dean sighed and pulled away. “Gods, capturing Crowley…it feels like It was way too easy, doesn’t it?”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Something going right?” Cas asked, a furrow above his eyes, head tilting.

“Well, yeah, I guess, but it makes me think something will go wrong further down the road.” Dean paused when Cas stiffened in his arms, his blue eyes sweeping past Dean and looking out the little kitchen window.

“Maybe it already has,” Cas whispered hoarsely.

Dean let go and turned to see what Cas had seen and sucked in a breath. Together they watched fog slowly rolling out of the forest and inching across the ground towards the cottage—and beyond that, the village—thick and unnatural for this time and place. “Oh gods,” Dean breathed, his hand reaching back to clutch at Cas’s.

“She’s breaking free.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed it tight, stepping closer and crowding against his warmth for reassurance. “Times up.”


	13. Childhood Tales and Archangel Blades

They made sure Crowley was secure after that, locking the workroom door behind them and shutting him in. With the wards in place around the door, Gabriel still hesitated to leave the little cottage and alter the sigils and runes he, Benny and Sam had painstakingly placed about it the day before. But when he was done, the four of them gathered in the kitchen, staring out at the dense fog that had settled in.

“Crowley probably wasn’t lying. Lucifer was using the sacrificed souls somehow to keep the Darkness bound and when we pulled Cas back…we broke it,” Sam finally ventured. He didn’t speak the words that would blame Dean. Before Dean even attempted the spell to bring Cas back to life, it had likely been his attempts to connect and discover what had happened to the previous wizard that had broken whatever the demon had done. Sam would have tried the same thing. There was no way to have known. And at that point, even banishing would not have made a difference. It had already been too late.

“So? We re-bind her. Missouri put the spells down in the book, didn’t she? We have more than enough of us here to do it. So—” Dean fiddled with his tea, wishing he’d poured something stronger but knowing now was a bad time for it. “—that’s what we do. What do we need?”

“We need to find the altar—it’s in the forest. That’s the reason the cottage is here instead of in the village proper. It had to be kept close to where the Darkness was being held. But I have no idea where to find it. We could wander that forest for days and we need to do something  _ now. _ ” Gabriel poked at the book Sam had opened on the table. “What I don’t understand is why there’s nothing  _ here _ about it.

Castiel’s eyes unfocused and he stood. Dean looked up sharply, “Cas? What is it?”

“I think…I think there _ is _ something. I just…I’ll be right back,” he said, ducking out of the room and heading straight back to the work room. He returned quickly with another book, looking as old as Missouri’s did. He opened the cover and pointed to the upper inside corner. “This was Joshua’s book. I remember flipping through it. Not much of it made sense before. Along with the standard things I had already known, were things I didn’t know pertained to anything important here. And at the back of it...” Castiel opened it to the back and turned a few pages this way and that before finding what he wanted and spreading the book wide open so all could see.

“It’s a damn map,” Dean breathed. Sam heaved a sigh of relief and Gabriel just laughed. Dean pulled the book closer to him, studying the map, then turned the page. He snorted. “Looks like Joshua didn’t trust Missouri’s pick for apprentices but couldn’t argue with the need. This book is a backup. The things she didn’t believe would be necessary since she was passing down all her knowledge directly. Where she wrote down the history and the binding spells, he wrote down his thoughts, the map, and more detailed diagrams on everything you could possibly need to know. He  _ devoted _ the last of this book to it.”

> _ “I’m dying, and soon Missouri will deal with the darkness alone. No single wizard can bind Amara. I believe that something has been working against us for some time. Too many of the family have died in strange circumstances. Our messages to ask other wizards for help have gone unheeded and – I wonder – did they ever reach their destinations? I don’t trust the MacLeod’s. I particularly do not trust Rowena. But Missouri does not seem to share my concerns. Or maybe, in her desperation, she has blinded herself to her own. _
> 
> _ I find I can’t disagree. _
> 
> _ But I don’t think this will end well. _
> 
> _ Those of you who come after, should the worst have happened, take this knowledge and use it well. The bindings should be done as often as possible, to strengthen them. It will be necessary to overlap them during their weakest moments so nothing can break through. It takes two to do the bindings. Missouri has already laid out the spells, but for the best results, let the wizards casting it have a bond with each other. A family bond can work, but a stronger one _ — _ a more profound bond, the kind of deep love True Bonds show _ — _ is preferable. _
> 
> _ Good luck. _
> 
> _ Joshua” _

The four of them stared at each other after Dean finished reading the old wizard's words. They had three options before them, and Dean knew none of them were good. There were easily two sets of brothers—and Joshua said that would work—but this sort of magic wasn’t Gabriel’s strength and Castiel was still recovering. And while it  _ was _ Sam’s strength, both he  _ and  _ Dean were a bit under the weather. Between Sam and Gabe, of course, there was nothing, making them not the worst choice, but no choice at all.

Which left Dean and Cas. And that was going to be an argument of epic proportions, Dean was sure. But, what did he and Cas have if not a profound bond? Everything pointed towards it. They had the marks to prove it. They were the stronger pair, even if they were both recovering still.

Sam surprised him though. He looked between Dean and Cas and must have seen the decision, the resolve there and he spoke quietly, with not a single cough. “Dean, are you, are you  _ both _ sure?”

“Yeah, Sam, I think it’s the best chance we’ve got. Besides, while we deal with the Darkness, you two aren’t going to be idle,” Dean answered.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, confused. Gabriel snorted.

“He means the demon, you moose.” Gabriel sighed and leaned on the table. “That’s going to be  _ our  _ job. Because if you think that Lucifer isn’t going to try and protect his investment here, you’re wrong. We need to find a way to summon the demon and kill it so he doesn’t interfere with our brothers. Because if  _ we  _ fail,  _ they  _ fail, and then everyone is screwed.”

They sat in silence then, Dean and Cas poring over the spells Missouri had left behind—simple, as they had said to Crowley earlier. Where the sabotage could possibly have come in, Dean couldn’t figure it out. It was all standard fare—a circle, a flame and some herbs, mingled blood from both casters, and the incantation. Cas set about gathering the necessary herbs and preparing them as needed while Dean worked on memorizing the incantation. Their brothers briefly disappeared, returning with a pile of books.

They browsed through the books for hours, Dean taking a break to make some food and losing himself in the task. He still stole glances out the window at the slow moving fog, damn glad they’d told Benny to stay away for a few days. And to tell the rest of the villagers to do the same. Just looking at the fog and thinking about what it meant sent chills down Dean’s spine and he was grateful they’d taken that precaution. 

Sam slammed the cover of his current book closed and placed it to the side of the reject pile. “Well, I found a summoning spell for a demon.” Sam shuddered.

“That’s all well and good, but before you summon it, I wanna know how you’re going to kill it, Sammy.” Dean knocked the spoon on the side of the pot and placed it on the counter, glancing at his brother.

Sam sighed. “Not sure yet, but there’s gotta be something.” He pulled another book out of the dwindling pile and flipped through the pages. None of Dean nor Sam’s books were even in the kitchen. After all, their collection was so small that they knew all their own books backwards and forwards. They knew the answer didn’t lie there. But they had a trove of knowledge in eclectic disciplines just sitting there, waiting. The books of who knew how many wizards that had come before them. There had to be something in one of them.

“I heard of something once, about a blade—but no, never mind.” Gabriel glanced up from the book he was looking through and then stopped, shaking his head.

“What blade?” Dean turned to face Gabriel who grimaced, then sighed.

“I’ve heard of a few that could kill a demon. There are two that are each supposed to be one of a kind – one of which will turn on its wielder. Probably don’t want that one. The third though…” Gabriel trailed off, choosing his words as Dean and Sam waited impatiently. Castiel looked up with narrowed eyes as Gabriel continued. “It’s supposed to be a  _ little  _ more common.”

“Exactly how much more common are we talking?” Dean asked slowly.

“Does it matter? It’s not likely we have any of these weapons, so why bring it up? What’s the point?” Sam deflated. It was obvious he was dying to know more but was trying to hold back and focus on the issue at hand. Dean hummed thoughtfully. They’d been at this for nearly half a day now. He wasn’t the only one who should be taking a break.

“Could shake something loose.” Dean pointed out with a shrug. Sam rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet, following Dean’s lead for once. Turning to stir the pot again, Dean repeated his question. “So? Exactly how much more common?”

“More than one?” Gabriel said weakly. All eyes turned on him.

“Gabriel,” Cas said slowly, warningly. His eyes, if anything, had narrowed more.

Gabriel winced but rushed to speak. “Four. Legends say there are four of them—one for each Archangel.”

“Those are bedtime stories, Gabriel. Dad used to tell them when we were kids. You can’t believe those old stories.” Cas nearly growled at his brother.

“Yeah, I know, but there was always something about  _ this  _ story that just…made me believe. It  _ felt  _ right. When I looked dad in the eyes, I could see he believed it was absolute truth,” Gabriel insisted.

“Even if he believed it himself with all his being, that doesn’t make it any more true.” Castiel shook his head.

“What story?” Sam asked. Dean smirked at his brother unseen. Despite his own admonishments that it would do no good, Sam just couldn’t let go of any new knowledge and he was well and truly curious now. Dean snorted quietly, going back to cooking, though he kept one ear out to listen.

“The Archangels, first born of Qaal, from the oldest religion, fell for humanity – fell from grace. It’s said when they fell they lost all memory of their divine selves. The Morning Star fell in a jealous rage.  His brother, the First Defender fell while chasing after him. The Messenger fled Heaven first, falling to escape the fighting and the last, the Healer, all alone, gave up his grace to dwell among humans, hoping to one day find his brothers.” Gabriel’s voice intoned the story solemnly while Castiel looked on in pity. “It was rumored that though they lost their powers and memory, they retained their blades and that the blades were capable of killing anything except the divine being himself, their father.”

Dean’s stirring slowed as Gabriel spoke. With each word, his face became more and more thoughtful.

“Do they have another name?” Dean asked when Gabriel finished.

“What? Um, the blades? Yeah, I think so. Why?” Gabriel asked curiously.

“Dean? What are you thinking?” Sam asked, even as Dean darted out of the room. Ignoring his brother, Dean searched for the scroll tube he’d used in the spell to resurrect Cas. It hadn’t been the tube itself that was important, but what was inside of it.

“Madriax Napeai. Was it called Madriax Napeai?” Dean walked back in with a slower, more measured pace. In his hands, he held the scroll case as well as an oblong object wrapped in cloth. Sam swore as he saw it.

“There’s no way, Dean! It’s not possible!” Sam half rose from the table while Dean laid the object down on the table.

“This scroll—” Dean tapped the case. “—details the history of our mother’s lineage. Not only the familial line going back centuries, but certain…things that went with it. It’s old, the older bits almost unreadable, but…” He opened the case and gently unrolled the scroll to expose the oldest portion. The lines were faded, words and images both, hard to make out. Gabriel and Castiel both leaned over to see it. Sam declined, having spent plenty of his youth huddled over it with Dean trying to make it out.

“Gabriel, can you—?” Castiel murmured after a few moments of straining his eyes.

“Mmmm…maybe. It depends on what the ink was made out of.” Gabriel rolled up his sleeves and placed both hands on the parchment gently. Tiny tendrils of smoke edged out from under his fingers and floated up into the air.

Dean lunged forward with a shout, intending to push Gabriel away from the fragile scroll. “You’re burning it!”

A hand landed on his shoulder and gently pulled him back, “No, Dean, wait. I’ve seen him do this before. I promise, he’s not damaging your family heirloom. He’s bringing life back to the ink.”

“Wait, you can do that?” Sam said in astonishment.

Castiel shrugged. “No, I can’t. But my brother can. It’s a different discipline entirely, and depends on his connection to all the different elementals out there. He’s got a stronger rapport with some than with others.” Castiel turned to look at Dean who hadn’t taken his eyes off Gabriel once in his horror. “Which is why he was uncertain if he could do this, but it looks as if his fears were unfounded.” Dean finally looked away from Gabriel to his bonded, and nodded, letting out a sigh and wiping a hand down his face.

“That’s it.” Gabriel lifted his hands and fell back into his chair. “It was old, very old. That’s the best I can do.”

“I’m sure it will be enough,” Castiel assured his brother. Sam reached for the scroll but Dean beat him to it.

“This…this is amazing,” Dean said in awe. “I can read nearly every word.”

“Well, what’s it say then?” Sam demanded.

“Hold on. Let me read it first and then I’ll sum it up,” Dean said absently, already tuning out the rest of the room as he read words that were soon revealed to be even older than any in his family had ever realized. He gave a low whistle.

“It’s from before this country even existed. When it was broken up into smaller kingdoms. Looks like mom’s family was of high rank or something for one of them once, before King Julian unified them all.”

“That…was a long time ago…” Sam blinked in surprise, Gabriel and Castiel echoing the sentiment with glances sent to each other. Castiel then leaned in towards Dean, trying to read over his shoulder.

“So, okay, I guess some couple hundred years before the kingdoms were united, there was some great calamity—something falling from the sky—wait, two somethings. Two beings, powerful, fighting each other. One was injured greatly while subduing the other. The other vanished and the first, the first died, but not before passing his blade to the local landholder—one of our ancestors. He called it a Divina Ferrum and warned that it was the only thing that could hold off…his brother…if he returned.” Dean looked up, stunned.

“By all that’s holy, that…that matches dad’s story!” Castiel breathed out incredulously.

“But it doesn’t, not really,” Sam interjected. “There’s only two brothers, not four.”

“According to dad’s story, they fell separately,” Gabriel reminded him.

“Yeah, but…according to your story, they also had no powers or memories. It’s very clear here that they not only remembered each other, they still had considerable powers. It details here that many regions were destroyed during the battle.” Dean pointed at the scroll.

“Then again, Gabriel’s account is an oral history, right?” Sam asked, looking at the brothers for confirmation. Gabriel and Castiel nodded. “Well there you have it. Stories and histories kept as an oral tradition tend to change. Some on purpose, some just from language drift.”

“Good point.” Dean nodded. “Which also brings up another. How can I read this? If this is old, then the language should be outdated, harder to read and everything.”

“Ah, I think I can answer that. The parchment was spelled. When I revitalized the ink, I woke up the spell. It  _ wants  _ to be read,” Gabriel explained. The other three stared at him in disbelief. He looked between them, taking in their expressions. “What?”

“But that’s, I mean…spells don’t work that way,” Sam protested. Dean stared down at the scroll parchment thoughtfully. “You can’t just create written spells that work by  _ themselves _ . They need power, they need will and intent behind them. This is…this is…you make it sound  _ sentient. _ ”

“I dunno, Sam. I mean…” Dean looked up. “Whoever laid the spell into the scroll  _ had  _ power and will, they certainly had intent. What’s so different from saying it out loud as to writing it down except for the immediacy of it? And a circle and wards…what do you think those are?”

“Those aren’t words, they’re runes and symbols,” Sam’s argument was weakening and he gave Dean a sheepish smile. “Huh, I guess it just never really occurred to me to think in that direction.”

Dean blinked at how easy Sam ceded the point and turned back to the scroll to buy some time to think about what that meant. Had Cas’s words caused this? He stared at it unseeingly for a moment before blinking, shaking his head to clear it and get back on topic. He pointed at an image scratched meticulously into the parchment. “Here, look at this. Does this look familiar at all to you?” He looked up at Gabriel.

“Uh, actually, it does,” Gabriel said slowly, looking over at his brother. Castiel tilted his head adorably and Dean’s heart lurched and fluttered. He hoped nobody noticed. Cas leaned down to look at where Dean was pointing, then back up at Gabriel.

“I’ve seen something like this before,” Cas said just as slowly. “Dad has a blade that looks just like that. I always thought it was the most unusual sword I’d ever seen.”

Dean caught Gabriel eyeing the cloth bundle he’d brought out with suspicion. Gabriel reached for it, then hesitated and looked back up at Dean. “Tell me, is this is what I think it is?”

“You tell me. I’ve never seen another one like it.” Dean smirked, flipping open the cloth. There, on the table, was a pure silver blade, untarnished and cylindrical in shape. Dean had admired it often since his mother had shown him its existence as a child.

And it matched the picture on the scroll in every way.

“Mom called it both the Madriax Napeai and the Divina Ferrum, the second name which is mentioned here, in the scroll,” Dean said quietly.

“Oh, my gods,” Castiel breathed out, clutching at Dean in his astonishment. He looked up at his brother.

“Yeah, I know, Cassie,” Gabriel said quietly. “I told you I believed dads stories, and I always suspected about that blade but this,” he waved in the direction of the scroll, Dean and the blade, “all of this, just confirms I’m right.”

“This is identical to the one our father has at the school. No one’s allowed to touch it. There must be some truth to the tales. To the stories. I never believed like you did, you know that but now…” Cas shook his head in disbelief, then looked up to face the other three men. Dean held his eyes and his fingers crept into Cas’s hand under the table, squeezing reassuringly. Cas smiled. “We have a chance at this, don’t we? If this can kill a demon and Dean and I can bind Amara, we can stop this cycle.”

Dean grinned at his bonded’s words. “Yeah, we can.” Dean leaned in for a kiss, keeping it brief before breaking it reluctantly. When he pulled away, Cas’s eyes were closed and his cheeks red. He blinked his eyes open and stared at Dean with a lopsided smile. They leaned into each other before Dean faced their brothers again.

“So, we got a plan then? You guys summon Lucifer and kill him with this—“ Dean pushed the blade across the table. “—and Cas and I finish up the prep on this spell.  Which, I think we’re just about there. Sooner we’re all ready, the better. Are we missing anything?”

Everyone shook their heads and Dean returned to the food, checking its progress. However it all went down, they wouldn’t be doing it on empty stomachs. That was just a recipe for disaster.

Soon, after a slightly burned meal, they were making the final preparations. The safest place to summon Lucifer was in the heavily shielded work room. While Gabriel and Sam set about clearing an area big enough for the spell, Dean helped Cas look for his robes.

“This is  _ never  _ going to work! You’re making a big mistake! You’re going to get us all killed!” Crowley’s growling voice rose in pitch till it ended on a squeak that caused Dean to wince.

“I thought you were going to gag him?” He heard Gabriel groan out to Sam.

“I tried! He bit me!” Sam said indignantly. “I’ll probably get infected!”

“Let me see it.” Dean sighed, grabbing Sam’s hand. There was barely even a mark and certainly no broken skin. He looked up at his sheepish brother and cocked his eyebrow at him.

“I’m nervous, okay?” Sam yanked his hand out of his brother’s grasp. “And Crowley jabbering away over there isn’t making me feel any better.”

“You’re nervous for a reason! You need to stop this madness and let me go! You’ll ruin  _ everything!” _ Crowley’s voice growled and squeaked up and down in his hysterics.

“Like your plan is soooo much better?” Dean growled back, not bothering to hold back his anger.

“Of course it is—in  _ my  _ plan, Amara stays bound and the village lives!”

“Yeah, so long as  _ you  _ keep making sacrifices of the very people who can save you. What happens when you’re dead, Crowley?” Dean turned away, not even waiting for an answer—hell, he’d hear whatever Crowley had to say no matter what in these close quarters—and shoved a box out from under the worktable. He thought he’d seen some cloth there. Maybe it was Cas’s robes? Dean didn’t hold out much hope about that though, since Sam and he had already torn the cottage apart to look for these very robes when they’d first arrived, with no success.

Crowley, remarkably, stayed quiet for a few long moments. Both sets of brothers started to relax—as much as they could, given what they were about to throw themselves into—as they got on with their various tasks, thankful that the distraction was over.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Crowley answered quietly, horror lacing his voice. Dean turned in surprise to see him looking down at his feet, shame written all over his face. “I just…I wanted to help. This was the only way.” He looked up then, devastation written over his features, voice broken, “Holy—what have I done?”

Dean almost felt sorry for him. Cas slammed a couple of books back onto a shelf with a strangled sound and rushed out of the room. Dean hurried to follow him.

Almost felt sorry. Dean didn’t think he’d ever forgive him for killing Cas.

Dean found Cas in the bedroom and he joined Cas on the bed, drawing the shuddering man into his side. “Are you okay?” Dean asked quietly.

Castiel tried to nod but changed it to an uncertain shake, burying his face in Dean’s neck. “I hate him, though I live despite his efforts. I  _ fear  _ him, though he’s powerless before us. And…and I sympathize with him,” Castiel whispered. “It was an untenable situation to be thrust into.”

“Cas, no…gods,” Dean muttered, uncertain what to say. How did you comfort someone in a situation like this? Dean swallowed. “It doesn’t excuse what he did. It doesn’t give you any less right to be angry with him. He had options. If he hadn’t been selfish, he could have risked everything the first time he hired a new wizard on. There were things he could have done. He could have summoned and trapped Lucifer after the deal was struck. He could have petitioned for help against the demon as soon as that was done. Options, Cas.”

Dean fell quiet then, running his fingers through Cas’s dark hair which seemed to be perpetually messy. He almost laughed. Well, Dean certainly wasn’t helping that, was he?

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sure this is the worst time for me to fall apart like this…” Cas sighed against Dean’s neck.

“No, Cas. I mean, you’ve been through something I don’t think anyone has ever gone through. You’ve had a pretty hard month—“

Cas let out a rough, wet laugh. “Is that what you call being dead?”

“Nah, you weren’t dead. You were only  _ mostly _ dead,” Dean snorted, trying to lighten the mood some more. “Look, it’s been pretty rough on you recently. I think you’re entitled. I don’t think any of us here can really comprehend just what you’ve been through,” Dean said quietly.

“I just want this to be over,” Castiel said just as quietly, Dean’s ears straining to pick up the words, despite their proximity to each other.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean agreed. “Don’t worry. Between all four of us, I think we’ve got this handled. And then we can do what we all intended when we came here — start a new life.”

Castiel hummed. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said wonderingly. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qaal - Enochian: Creator  
> Madriax Napeai - Enochian: Heaven Sword  
> Divina Ferrum - Enochian: Divine Sword


	14. Past the Darkness

Dean and Cas stood outside the forest, inches from where the fog still crept forward. Dean shifted the bag on his shoulder and glanced over at Cas, his bonded, feeling a thrill every time he looked at him.

Clearing his throat, Dean quietly asked, “You ready?”

The air around them was unnaturally still. No sound, no wind. It was made all the more eerie by the fact that the fog  _ was  _ moving ever closer.

“As ready as we can be. We’ve done what we could to prepare. We’ll do what we can. We have protections against things like this…” Cas gestured at the fog. “And our brothers will buy us the time we need.”

That was just one of the many parts Dean didn’t like. But then, their brothers were equal in their dislike for the danger Dean and Cas were about to head into. It evened out in the end, he supposed. “Yeah, okay, let’s go.”

Dean’s unoccupied hand crept into Cas’s, needing the reassuring warmth as the fog touched their feet, rolling over and bringing a bone deep chill. Dean led the way, more accustomed to traveling in all sorts of conditions and visibilities, more practiced in reading a map, though they’d all agreed it had seemed fairly straightforward once they’d been able to study it.

They plunged into the wall of fog together, surprised that the interior wasn’t nearly as thick as the exterior, leaving them able to see somewhat. Dean let his shoulders relax slightly. That was one thing in their favor.

Their footfalls were smothered by the oppressing atmosphere, where there should have been the crunching of dry leaves and old pine needles. Thankfully, the journey was quick, because even as experienced as he was, Dean found himself jumping at every shadow and sudden shift of light.

What if they were too late and Amara had already walked free?

If she had, they were doomed. The journal didn’t mention how to capture Amara if she was loose, only how to contain the primordial force in whatever prison she’d been trapped in for who knew how long. All Cas and Dean were going to do was tighten the stopper on her bottle. Someone long ago had already done the hard work of stuffing her inside it.

They stumbled through yet another seemingly identical set of trees to find themselves in a small clearing with an altar in the center. Vines and wild undergrowth had grown rampantly in the decade or more of neglect, but clearing it would take more time than they had.  Instead, they focused only on clearing the altar itself, sure it was necessary for their spell casting.

With a determined nod to each other, they set to work, using their standard daggers to hack away at the stronger vines and plants, yanking out what they could by hand. This time, it was Castiel’s expertise which came into play.

“I had no idea fighting evil meant learning how to garden,” Dean grumped.

“There are worse things we could be doing, worse things to learn,” Cas answered, yanking out another stubborn plant.

“Well, anything I need to know, at least all I have to do is ask you.” Dean huffed at another plant whose roots were too strong. He reached for his dagger with an annoyed look.

Cas grinned. “Well, you could, and if we were talking about my garden behind the cottage, I would prefer it. But in this case, just yank anything that’s in your way.”

Eventually, Cas heaved out a breath and wiped a hand over his sweaty brow, surveying the work they’d done. “Dean, stop. That’s good enough.” He looked up anxiously, Dean following his gaze to stare up at the tree canopy, both trying to peer through the fog at what bare hints of sky the clearing would normally have given them. It was dark under the trees, many details hidden in the fog, and Cas sighed. “I can’t tell the time. But I feel we don’t have much left.”

“Agreed. Let’s get started.”

Opening his bag, Dean took out the stone bowl he’d used for the last spell and set it on the altar. The bowl fit snugly in the divot worn into the pedestal from who knew how many centuries of spellcasters doing the same. Cas took out the pouch with the premeasured herbs and dropped them into the bowl while Dean set up thick, stubby candles into the waxy grooves he found in each corner around the depression the bowl now rested in. All of it showed signs of heavy use prior to its neglect. Dean had to scrape away the remnants of the old wax before he felt the candles were secure enough in their place.

Cas looked up, the vial of holy oil in his hand, poised and ready. Dean nodded and started chanting the Latin words of the spell.

_ “Nos invocabo antiqua pro – di quibus ante deum nostrum, _

_ In elementa vocamus:  Aerem, ignem terram et aquam. Solem, lunam, stellas –“ _

Slowly, taking care to drench each herb in the oil, Cas poured it into the bowl. The air around them thickened, the fog swirling madly around them. Dean’s eyes flickered about them, then back at Cas worriedly but didn’t falter.

_ “ _ _ Vocamus in lumine spirituum: amoris et vitae, tutela praesidii, aris et focis –“ _

Cas tapped the vial to make sure all the oil had been used, then set it back in his pocket, pulling his silver knife out in its place. He held the blade across the palm of his empty hand, before stretching blade and hand towards Dean. Dean grasped Cas’s hand, the blade now sandwiched between their palms, and Cas pulled the silver knife towards himself, blood flashing red across its surface.

_ “Ut exaudias deprecationem populi: In communi vir, mulier, et puer inter illos qui cadunt -“ _

Dean continued to chant as each mingled drop of their blood dripped faster than they’d expected—the wound probably deeper than it should have been—into their spell bowl. Cas placed the bloody knife on the side of the altar and together, Dean and he pulled out their firestarters—Cas had borrowed Sam’s—each lighting two candles before lighting the bowl in tandem.

_ “Retinere tenebras mali futurum nobis perdere nos, nihil ad nos –“ _

It flared and that’s when wind ripped through the clearing, snatching Dean’s breath and making him choke. Castiel looked at him in concern, but Dean shook his head, catching his breath before looking pointedly down at the candle flames and the bowl. His heart—which had leapt in his throat in horror, instead had melted into surprise and relief—the candles guttered but remained lit, the bowl didn’t even flicker ominously.

Eyes trailing along the altar, he saw why—blue-white runes ran up the column and around the edges, glowing eerily. A protection spell put in place by who knew, but Dean was damn glad it was there. He closed his eyes and forced the next part of the spell out from between his lips despite the wind that tried to steal his breath.

_ “In nostra potestate et orationis, cum auxilio omne sanctum, quod officium cum dilectione –“ _

With only one more part left to go, the wind came to an abrupt stop and the fog cleared. Standing before him was a woman. Dean stumbled back at the shock of her sudden appearance. She looked at him with dark eyes.

“Hello, Dean.” She smiled at him. It sent a chill through his body. “Thank you for freeing me.”

Dean gulped and tried to look around her, to see where Cas was and if he was all right. She frowned when he didn’t look her in the eye, or seem happy to see her. She took a step closer and he backed away. She froze.

Holding out her hand, she spoke again. “Dean, I would like to reward you. Come, be with me, spend an eternal life by my side. I will give you everything you could ever want.”

“What if he doesn’t want you?” Cas’s gravelly voice was a welcome sound and Dean let it wash over him, though his body remained tense. The woman — it had to be Amara, the physical embodiment of the Darkness that Missouri and Joshua had warned of — turned to see who had interrupted her and now Dean could  _ see  _ Cas, not just hear him.

“Ah, Castiel. I recognize your soul. While I regret that I was unable to consume it as intended — you looked very tasty and I could have used your energy to help break the bonds of my prison — I was more than happy to let you go when I realized what it would mean.”

Dean watched as fear flashed across Cas’s face and Dean opened his mouth to respond to Amara only to catch the minute shake of his bonded’s head, the reminder that while casting, Dean couldn’t say any words other than the spell, or they’d have to start all over.

With Amara standing before them, the herbs burning away merrily, that would be disaster. Hell, Dean didn’t know for certain this would even work anymore, not if she was  _ right there _ .

But they had to try. Steeling himself, he resumed the chanting spell.

_ “ _ _ Obligantes _ — _ “ _

He only managed one word before her head whipped back around and an arm flung out, his throat closing up. Dean clawed at his throat in panic.  _ Gods! The spell…have to…have to finish the spell!  _ With growing horror, Dean watched helplessly as Castiel lunged at Amara.

And fell right through her, stumbling into Dean. She laughed, low and dark and Dean felt a spark of hope, one that was echoed in Cas’s eyes.

She was merely an illusion.

That meant she wasn’t quite free yet. Which meant they still had a chance to overpower her. But Dean couldn’t do  _ anything _ while she held his voice hostage, while he was stuck in the middle of casting.

It was all up to Cas.

Cas, whose magical strength was in the premeasured powers of herbs and other plants that he grew, in the combinations he could make with them, the potions that could be brewed. Spoken magic was secondary to him, as Sam’s circle magic was secondary to Dean.

What could Cas possibly do to stop Amara? Dean breathed heavily. Whatever Amara had done was merely choking the words in his throat, not blocking his air. It was a small mercy and gave him time to think. His brain scrambled to find anything, any kind of charm or rune he could draw in the ground to counteract her magic.

He didn’t expect Cas to reach into his pocket and pull out a vial. With a wink, Cas mimed opening his mouth and held the small glass tube closed in his fist, pressing it into Dean’s. Dean glanced at Amara, then back at Cas and nodded ever so slightly.

Pushing away, Castiel turned to face Amara, blocking Dean from her view. She was advancing on them both, and they shivered at the power that emanated from her, having to force themselves to stand their ground despite knowing that she was merely a projection.

Projection or not, the power was still all too real. Dean quickly unstoppered the vial, closed his eyes and sent up an internal prayer to whichever gods were listening, then upended the entire thing down his throat. He swallowed it in one gulp and waited for it to work its magic.

“Castiel, really. What do you think you can do to me?” her voice oozed unpleasantly over their bodies, sending shivers down both men’s spines. “Greater wizards have tried and failed. My brothers’ creations, more powerful than a thousand of you mortal wizards, were barely able to contain me. I  _ will  _ be free, and I  _ will  _ take what is mine. And Dean  _ is  _ mine. I deserve this.”

“Greater wizards have tried and succeeded or you would not be here now. And you deserve nothing. You bring chaos and destruction. You kill with no regard. Lastly, Dean is not yours. He is mine and I am his.” Castiel spoke calmly, firmly, absolute trust in Dean and Dean’s ability. How he could be so certain, believe so hard in Dean when they’d both just met, Dean had no idea. If you’d asked him if this was possible a week ago, he’d have said no with absolute certainty. But not only had he been wrong, he felt the same way. His heart swelled to hear the pride, the faith and conviction with which Castiel spoke.

Amara did not react quite so happily, finally seeing before her the bond between them, the bond that strengthened their resolve against her. Whatever seduction she had woven into her voice, her words hadn’t even shone through, unable to penetrate the newly made bond.

“No!” she snarled, her face twisting, her hand rising up and a strange, dark lightning playing about her fingers. It crackled, the only sound in the clearing, but it was enough to drown out the soft words Dean spoke, enough that she didn’t even realize her spell had broken and his voice had been released.

“ _ Hoc est antiquis tenebris in silva, ab iis noceret!” _

Dean’s whispered words rose in volume till he shouted the last spell word in triumph, Amara screaming her rage. Sparks flew from the Altar, blinding them briefly as it burned through her illusion.

Then she was gone.

There was silence for a long moment and then the forest burst back into life. The sudden cacophony of what sounded like every tree, insect and creature rejoicing that she was gone was nearly deafening. Dean slumped to the ground, exhausted and bloody. The spell had taken a lot out of him. He was still not quite recovered from the major spellcasting he’d undertaken — was it only a week ago?

Cas slumped down to the ground next to him, against him, breathing hard. Using each other for balance, to keep themselves upright, they just sat there, the wind gently toying with their clothes and hair. Dean let his eyes close and his head fall onto Cas’s shoulder. The other wizard let him lie there for a few moments, but finally he shifted, jostling Dean back into awareness.

“Mmm…?” Dean couldn’t even form words, too tired for them. His eyes blinked groggily at Cas who was levering himself up with heavy movements.

“As much as I want to fall asleep right here,” Cas admitted to Dean (Dean approved the idea wholeheartedly), “I think it would be better for both of us to get back to the cottage before we do. Besides, I know if you were more coherent, you’d be wanting to check that our brothers are safe, as I want to do.”

Dean blinked, a little more aware with that reminder. He held a hand out and Cas grasped it, pulling him to his feet. The fog had cleared and moonlight shone down on them. Dean slowly bent over to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. With leaden feet, the two of them made their way back to the cottage.

As slow going as it had been going in — despite the short distance they had needed to travel — with fog obscuring their every step, making them second guess their way, it was even slower going back out. The two of them felt a bone deep weariness that made every step a monumental effort. Dean had no idea how long it took to reach the edge of the forest. But seeing the cottage, still standing and intact, lent him strength.

Dean and Castiel made their way across the field that separated the cottage from the forest, each step thrumming with more and more urgency.

Shouldn’t their brothers have come looking for them?

Despite their exhaustion, their weariness, they pushed on quicker and quicker till they burst through the front door of the tiny cottage together, both panicking now and high on adrenaline.

The front room was empty, but Dean and Cas expected that. That hadn’t been where their brothers had planned to summon Lucifer, after all.

They hit the hall in a stumbling run, wedged up against each other in the narrow confines. A glance to the left and right only confirmed what they expected—an empty kitchen, an empty bedroom.

The workroom door was ajar and they both lunged for it at the same time. Cas made it through first, being less worn down and weary than Dean.

They found the room in shambles, the heavy tables destroyed, books torn apart, blood splattered everywhere, even a few of the heavy stones from the walls had been ripped out, leaving holes that would let daylight through once the sun came up.

Dean’s heart stopped.

He stumbled into Cas who’d frozen on the spot and Dean clutched at him to keep himself upright.

Four bodies were laid out on the floor—though barely two of them could be seen, only hands or feet peeking out from behind or from underneath the debris. The Devil’s Trap was marred and broken. With a strangled sound, Dean tried to step forward but his knees were too weak to hold him up any longer, only his grip on Cas kept him from hitting the floor.

Cas turned and gently leaned him against the wall. “Stay here, I’ll…” Cas swallowed visibly, eyes wide and scared as Dean stared up into them. “I’ll take a look and…” he trailed off with a shaky breath and Dean let his head fall against the stone wall.

His eyes tracked every movement Cas made as he gingerly stepped through the debris and stopped to check each body, reaching to touch their neck or their wrists. The first was Crowley, Dean could see the features from here, covered as they were in blood. Cas looked up and shook his head. Dean nodded slightly in acknowledgement, a bare twitch of his head and watched Cas like a hawk as he continued to pick his way through the room.

He saw Cas recoil at the second body, wiping his hands against his robes as if he’d been tainted. Dean felt a surge of hope. Maybe that was Lucifer. If that was the demon, then at least their brothers had succeeded in what they had set out to do.

But what had been the cost? Were they alive or…?

Cas rounded one of the chunks of furniture that had been blasted and broken, leaning down tentatively. Then falling to his knees as he reached down, helping Sam to sit up against the remains of the table. Dean felt relief at the obvious evidence that Sam had survived. Now if only…

“Gabriel…?” Cas asked, trepidation and fear clear in his voice. Sam pointed behind Cas the same moment the pile of wood and stone shifted and a groan was heard.

Dean’s relief in that moment was overwhelming. With the rest of the events from that day, compounded by being drained from two heavy spell castings in just over the space of a week (not to mention, all the little ones he had pushed himself to do), the toll had been taken and Dean couldn’t resist his eyes closing any longer.

Darkness took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's Spell 
> 
> We call upon the ancient ones - Those gods before our gods  
> We call upon the elements: Air, fire, earth and water. Stars and moon and sun  
> We call upon the spirits of light: of love and life, guardianship, protection, home and hearth  
> Hear the plea of the people: The common man, woman, child and all those who fall between  
> Hold back the darkness, that evil that would take us, destroy us, make us into nothing  
> With our power and prayer, with the help of all that is holy, with love and duty:  
> We bind the darkness to this ancient forest, away from those it would harm.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - this is the end! Holy Crap! 
> 
> I hope you liked it! :D
> 
> Oh, right, there is more smut here. Just, FYI

It turned out, when Dean had woken, that nearly the best of all the scenarios that could have happened, had happened. Crowley was dead, and so was Lucifer and, against all odds, both their brothers were alive and well.

Castiel had been left alone to take care of three invalids though, and it had nearly undone him. He’d been suffering under the effects of the same two major spellcasting’s as Dean and was hardly any better off.

Luckily for all of them, Eileen and Benny had ignored Sam and Dean’s warning not to approach the cottage for a few days.

“Y’see, I figured if Crowley was the culprit an’ he was missin’, then maybe you all had done what you had set out to do. An’ then I figured, since none of us had heard from you, that maybe you might be in need of help,” Benny explained later when one of the wizards finally got around to questioning his presence. “If things were bad enough, I knew I’d need some help. Since Eileen an’ I were the only ones to get a talisman, I figured we were the best choices to come and check on y’all.”

“Smart thinking, Benny,” Dean said with a tired smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Master Dean.” Benny grinned back. Dean shook his head ruefully.

“Benny, just Dean, remember? If uh, you guys are all right with it, Cas and I figured we’d stick around, permanent like. You  _ need  _ a couple of wizards here, that’s clear, or things could go very bad again,” Dean said hesitantly with a worried glance over at Cas.

It had become quite clear when Benny and Eileen had shown up that Cas and Dean were closer than what was considered normal and while the man hadn’t said anything, Dean was still uncertain how it would go over in general. Maybe Benny was just helping them out so they’d leave faster.

Or, Dean dared to hope, not having caught any looks of disgust on Benny’s face, maybe he was okay with it. With  _ them _ .

“Well, now, I think that’s a mighty fine idea you’ve got there, Master Dean,” Benny said sincerely.

Dean blinked.

He turned back to face Benny across the table, even as Cas’s hand crept into his under the table, twining their fingers together.

“Wait, really? Even though…?” Dean still couldn’t say it out loud. Cas squeezed his hand.

“Even though what?” Benny looked between them with a raised eyebrow. “None o’ my business, now, is it?” He pushed himself to his feet with a smirk. “An’ if you ask me, ain’t nobody’s business but your own. Nobody ‘round here’s even gonna care. Now, I’m gonna go check on your brothers.”

Benny left Cas and Dean sitting in the kitchen, stunned, while Eileen bustled about preparing food. Lost in their own, hopeful thoughts, they were startled when plates were placed before them. She tapped the table to get them to look at her and gestured at the plates with a smile. They just stared at her. Eileen was deaf and Dean didn’t know the hand gestures she used and he had no idea what she knew—of  _ course she knew. She’s been helping Benny for the past few days, she has to know  _ everything—or how  _ she  _ felt about all of this.

She rolled her eyes and reached out, placing a hand on each of their faces gently, then pushed till their heads knocked together. “Don’t be stupid, be happy.” Eileen spoke with a quality Dean had never heard before he’d met her, but her words were understandable. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was to learn to speak when you couldn’t even hear, and yet she had done it, somehow. Eileen was smart and determined and kind.

Her and Sam would be perfect together, he mused, if Sam ever got the courage to try.

With a last pat to their faces, she spun about to clean up, leaving Cas and Dean to their food. Dean picked at it, listening to the noises in the back of the cottage, the banging and grunting as Benny and several other villagers helped Sam and Gabriel put the workroom back together.

That had been the biggest surprise of all. By all rights, from what he’d heard, what little he’d seen, Gabriel should have been dead. He’d been injured fairly badly, and he’d collapsed nearly as soon as he had gotten himself out from under the wreckage he’d been buried in, but he’d recovered quicker than Dean had thought possible.

He’d been the worst injured and the first to get back on his feet.

Which wasn’t at  _ all  _ strange, was it? Then again, Cas had seemed surprised when he’d realized that Sam, who’d been hurt about as half as bad as Gabriel, seemed to be taking longer.

As for Cas and Dean, they were mostly just exhausted. The wounds on their palms hadn’t taken very long to heal at all. But Gabriel was a mystery. When asked, Gabriel had merely shrugged.

“I dunno. I’ve always been a fast healer. I mean, some people are stronger. Some people have more innate magic than others. Maybe that’s mine?” he suggested. Dean had thought it over and shrugged. He supposed that was true enough.

“So, what are everyone’s plans now?” Dean asked that night as they gathered around the table. Eileen joined them at their insistence. Benny had been invited as well but he’d declined so he could return home to his bonded, Andrea.

“Hmm…well, I was thinking,” Gabriel mused around a mouthful of potatoes, “that I’d like to check in on Dad first, ask him a few questions. But after that, we all know Rowena MacLeod is loose in the wind, and it was fairly clear from what we heard and what Lucifer said that she was responsible for everything going downhill. Figured I could hunt her down, bring her back to face her justice.”

Dean scoffed. “How are you going to do that? You don’t even know what she looks like.” 

“Eh, I’ll find a way. Someone like her? The lengths she went to for whatever this granted her?” Gabriel waved a hand around, “I find it hard to believe she’d be able to keep a low profile for too long.”

“Speaking of what Lucifer said,” Sam said slowly, toying with his fork, the bandages wrapped around his right arm and over his hand showing prominently against his skin, “He acted like he knew you.”

Gabriel froze and Castiel looked up at his brother sharply. “What? What’s this about?” Cas asked.

His brother shrugged and sighed, “I don’t know. It was the strangest thing. Sam’s right, he did act like he knew me, but I can’t imagine how or why. I’ve never consorted with demons, and though he could have passed for any other man on the street, I didn’t recognize him either. It’s…kind of why I want to go home and have a chat with dear old Dad before I go haring off on a quest.”

“Gabriel,” Cas said slowly, “I have another question. About…about this post.” Gabriel looked up guiltily and Cas pressed on. “If Crowley was sacrificing wizards for over a decade, the schools would have gotten suspicious. There was no way he went through official channels to find people he could offer up to the demon. So how did  _ you  _ know about this place?”

Gabriel made a wounded sound. “Dad told me,” he whispered. “It’s one of the  _ many  _ things I need to talk to him about.”

“Do you think,” Sam said, picking his fork back up, “that maybe your dad knew, and he set this up on purpose? Trying to flush out Crowley and the demon and get everything back on track?”

“Only one way to find out.” Gabriel sighed. “And if so, I’m going to be really pissed off. He  _ sacrificed  _ his  _ son _ !”

Dean stared at Gabriel in astonishment at the very idea that a father would do that. “He wouldn’t really have done that, would he?”

“Even if it’s true, I find I don’t regret it,” Cas said, shocking the rest of them into silence. “After all, not only did it succeed, but, it brought me here, to you.” He turned to look at Dean, and Dean got caught in those blue eyes.

“Cas…” Dean said quietly, reverently. Cas smiled at him and Dean found himself suddenly drowning in those eyes, in that look, and gravitating closer to his bonded.

When Gabriel eventually left a few days later, he took Sam with him. Well, to be more exact, Sam  _ insisted _ on going with him to back him up when Gabriel confronted his father.

It also, not so incidentally, left Cas and Dean alone in the cottage for the very first time. The repairs on the workroom had been done, and the bedroom had been changed around to fit a bigger bed—Cas and Dean had seen no reason to be sleeping apart at this point, since they’d already been sleeping together since the start.

Work had also started in an effort to expand the cottage. The plans were to include a guest room or two, and make the visiting room larger, but the work had paused due to the incoming weather. The plans were there, though, and come spring, they’d finish.

But right now, they were about to be quite by themselves. And while Dean was glad Sam was leaving, he wasn’t sure he’d know what to do with himself. Sam had always been at his side, his entire life. The longest they’d ever been parted was perhaps a single day here and there.

Then again, he had Cas now.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll be back,” Sam said, with a shy glance at the not as oblivious Eileen. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. I’m gonna settle down here, make this home, but…I still feel an itch in my feet. I think what I’m gonna do is volunteer as a go between. It’s obvious that you and Cas leaving here would be a bad idea. I think I’ll spend this winter at the school, give you and Cas some time to get to know each other, then I’ll come back in the fairer weather, when we can get to work on the expansion again. When I can have my own room, I’ll spend the winters here.”

“Okay, but stay safe, you hear me?” Dean admonished. He pulled Sam into a tight hug, holding it for a long moment, possibly two (but who was counting) before he stepped back again, only to be wrapped in Cas’s arms.

“You two stay safe too. Just because you’re not traveling, just because Crowley is gone, doesn’t mean this is gonna be an easy job, that you won’t be in danger.” Sam looked pointedly at the forest, in the direction of the altar though he’d not been there himself. “Just…I don’t want to come back and find out you’re both dead. Dean got lucky when he brought you back, Cas, I don’t think I’d be able to pull off bringing you both back by myself.”

“Don’t you worry, Sam. I’ll take care of Dean, and he me. We’ll still be here when you get back,” Cas assured him.

“Thanks,” Sam said quietly. He shifted the bag on his back and started to turn away, but then he turned back. Dean laughed at Cas’s surprise when Sam hugged him. When Sam joined Gabriel where he was waiting up the road—already having done his own goodbyes—Dean slung an arm around Cas’s shoulder.

“Look at that, you’re already family,” Dean grinned happily at Sam’s acceptance, both of them watching their brothers till they’d walked out of sight.

Suddenly, the silence turned somewhat awkward and Dean dropped his arm from Cas’ shoulder and rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “So, um...”

Cas tilted his head in confusion at Dean’s sudden shift of behavior. “Yes, Dean?”

“Uh, nothing, never mind. Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold out here,” Dean babbled and turned to do just that. Something sparked in Cas’s eyes, a realization Dean didn’t see, and he reached out, snagging Dean’s arm.

Dean turned into the pull and found himself nose to nose with Cas and his breathing hitched. Cas searched his eyes before drawing Dean in for a long kiss. Dean melted into it, his eyes fluttering closed, his worries falling away.

When Cas finally pulled back, tugging at Dean’s bottom lip as he went, he whispered, “I agree. Let’s go inside, where we can keep warm together.”

Dean whimpered and nodded quickly. Cas still held Dean’s arm and he slid his fingers down to grasp and twine around Dean’s hand, gently pulling them back into the cottage. He shut the door firmly behind them and locked it—though who in their right minds would disturb a pair of wizards without warning?—before leading Dean down the short hall and into their bedroom.

“Cas, what are we doing?” Dean whispered as they fell together, still clothed, onto their bed. They lay on their sides, feet tangled together, breath mingling.

“I’m not really sure, Dean. Nothing you don’t want to, but I thought we could at least enjoy our privacy. Get more comfortable with each other. And,” Cas looked at him shyly, “I know, at least, that I enjoy kissing you.”

Dean’s fingers slid along Cas’s jaw, reveling in the feel of the stubble before sliding his hand so that his thumb rubbed over Cas’s lips, pulling the bottom lip down a little as he did. “So do I, Cas.” He moved forward, pressing against Cas and slotting their lips together, moving his thumb back out of the way. Dean’s fingers returned to dancing over the stubble on Cas’s face, just one of many reminders that Cas was all male.

And wholly desirable.

Dean groaned and licked into Cas’s mouth. Cas opened his lips on a gasp.  They’d been kissing nearly since they’d woken up together, since the bath, but Dean didn’t see this ever growing old. The feelings it evoked, everything he knew about Cas just made them stronger.

Things heated up quickly, the knowledge that they were truly alone working Dean up more than he’d thought possible. The knowledge that nobody would disturb them, that nobody cared that he and Cas loved each other, had Dean letting loose in a way he never had before.

He pulled at Cas’s shirt, lifting it enough to slide his hands under it, and they both groaned at the touch of warm skin, their lips breaking contact.

“Dean,” Cas gasped, taking advantage of his mouth being free, his own hands clutching at Dean’s shirt, “Dean, I wanna feel you, all of you, please? Whatever else—ooooooh…” Cas broke off as Dean’s lips sucked at his neck and his hand palmed at Cas’s chest, fingers curving slightly around his side, his thumb grazing Cas’s nipple teasingly. Cas whimpered and arched into the touch, bared his throat to Dean’s lips. “That’s…heavenly…”

“Yeah? What was that you were sayin’?” Dean spoke into Cas’s throat, mouthing against the sensitive skin.

“I…I….mmmmm….wanna be naked with you, Dean. Now that we can…oooooh…” Cas got his hands moving again, his fingers fumbling at Dean’s shirt, trying to push it off of him.

Dean chuckled lightly at how difficult Cas was finding it to speak, as they both lay on their sides, pressed closely together. “Yeah, I think I want that too. Let’s sit up a minute,” Dean said breathlessly.

Nodding eagerly, Cas sat up, pulling Dean with him. Together, they divested themselves of their shirts. Naked now from the waist up, they found themselves staring at the expanse of skin before them. Though they’d both gotten more than an eyeful when they’d shared the bath, neither had felt brave enough to get fully naked again in the others presence.

Cas stared at Dean, raising a hand shakily to touch his chest. Dean gasped at the contact, his nerve endings on fire with a simple touch. He stared back at Cas in astonishment, filled with overwhelming desire.  Cas’s fingers skimmed lightly over Dean, joined quickly by Cas’s other hand, both of them leaving burning trails across Dean’s skin. Such simple contact had never made him feel so good before. Dean hadn’t known it was possible, despite his fumbling attempts at love over the years. This was so much more.  _ Cas _ was so much more.

Getting braver with each touch, each stroke, Cas’s hands firmed on Dean’s body and pulled him down for a kiss. Dean groaned and finally got his own hands moving again. Both arms wrapped around Cas, pulling him against his chest and trapping Cas’s hands between them. Dean slid one hand up Cas’s back to press against his shoulders, digging into the muscles there, massaging deep, while the other dipped lower, lower, lower—

Cas gasped and jerked in Dean’s hands. Dean released his lips and worked his way around to nibble on the lobe of Cas’s ear while his lower hand kneaded Cas’s ass. The breathy moans Cas made would have made him hard if he wasn’t already. Dazedly, Dean remembered Cas’s words, remembered that they’d only managed about half of that…

And he really wanted to see Cas.  _ All of Cas _ .

Reluctantly letting go, Dean leaned back and stood up from the bed, peeling off his pants and boots. Cas sat dazed on the bed, lips red and swollen, chest heaving, his eyes dark with desire. The handprint on his shoulder showed prominently. The mark that showed they belonged together, that they chose each other, however instinctual it had been.

Lost in staring at Dean, mouth open and panting, Cas didn’t make a move to remove his pants. Dean slowly circled his waist with his hands, his fingers lightly gripping the top of Cas’s pants. He looked down at those blue eyes that were now centered on Dean’s dick and he smirked lightly.

“You okay with this?” Dean asked softly. His hands started pulling down on the pants, but Dean moved slow, giving Cas a chance to stop if he was getting overwhelmed. Cas may have more knowledge of all the things two men could do, things Dean had learned he  _ didn’t  _ know, but Cas had no exposure to actually doing any of it as Dean had.

Cas didn’t know how good it would feel to have someone touching him the way Dean was about to. Dean figured that, intellectually, Cas knew it was  _ supposed _ to feel good, but he didn’t  _ know  _ it on a personal level. Dean hoped to change that.

Nodding dumbly, Cas laid back, not taking his eyes off of Dean, though they’d moved upwards to hold Dean’s own. He lifted his hips off the bed, allowing Dean to slide his pants down over his legs and his naked feet (despite the weather, Cas had a thing for walking around barefoot, even—or especially—outside). Dean had to crouch slightly to pull them off the last few inches and when he looked up, that left him facing Cas’s hard cock nearly head on.

Dean’s hands convulsed around Cas’s ankles, his mouth watered and his dick throbbed painfully.  Cas was sitting up again, to better see Dean, his hands groping forward to touch Dean. Dean leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly before he opened them again, licking his lips. His hands moved along Cas’s legs, up his calves, up his thighs, sliding through the dark hair that dotted them. As his hands rose along those shapely muscles, Dean settled between Cas’s legs, pulling the man to the edge of the bed, Dean’s fingers digging into Cas’s ass once more.

Cas groaned, but his eyes stayed focused on Dean, wide and lust filled. But when Dean’s mouth closed over him, taking in the head of his cock with a gentle suck, Cas’s eyes rolled back in his head. He panted and whined at every teasing lick, every harsh suck, and when Dean sank down to take him all, Cas cried out, collapsing back onto the bed. His hands groped for anything to hold onto. One clutched the blankets while the other fell into Dean’s hair.

Dean felt proud as Cas writhed under Dean’s mouth and tongue, his eyes rolling back in pleasure when Cas tugged on Dean’s hair. Dean moaned around Cas’s cock as he slid up and down the length of it and Cas’s hips thrust upwards. Another moan, another firm tug of lips, and Cas was arching off the bed, taut as a bowstring, coming in Dean’s mouth with a loud, drawn out groan.

Spent, Cas fell back to the bed, limp and sated, staring up at the ceiling, panting hard. Dean pulled back, letting cold air hit Cas’s soft cock.  After several heavy breaths, Cas looked down at Dean, eyes going  eyes going down to his still hard dick.  Dean could feel the spots of come coating his lips where it had dribbled out of his mouth and his tongue darted out to touch them. He watched Cas swallow and felt Cas’s cock twitch valiantly at the sight. Dean smirked again.

Cas held a hand out to Dean and Dean took it, scrambling up on the bed to stretch out beside Cas. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, a soft meeting of tongues. Cas’s lips left Dean’s then and licked the spots of his come off Dean’s face. Dean moaned, his hips thrusting involuntarily before he stilled.

“How was it, Cas? Did you…mmm…was that okay?” Dean asked as Cas cleaned him up, seemingly intent on finding every spot.

“More than okay, it was wonderful. I never knew…I want to do the same for you. I want to give you such mind-blowing pleasure as you gave me.” Tentatively, Cas slid a hand down Dean’s side, over his flank and grabbed his thigh, pulling it against him, slipping his leg between Dean’s. Cas pushed his thigh against Dean’s dick and rubbed. Dean cried out and thrust against Cas, panting.

The panting moans and slick, sweaty slide of their bodies against each other drove Dean wild. Cas angled closer, mouthing at the juncture of Dean's neck and shoulder, that truly sensitive spot that caused Dean to arch into the touch and bare his throat trustingly.  Their bodies thrust against each other, though Cas wasn’t hard again.

With Cas’s fingers roaming seemingly  _ everywhere _ —from kneading Dean’s ass to pinching his nipples—Dean was  _ certain _ Cas was trying his damndest to discover which places gave him the most pleasure, made him moan in ecstasy. The sounds Dean made in response would have embarrassed him if he’d been coherent at all. Instead, when Cas’s fingers fell on the handprint on Dean’s shoulder, he jolted.

When Dean echoed the movement seconds later, they both jolted again. Dean was surprised to find that one  _ could  _ grow hard again so quick, as Cas’s hot cock, hard and throbbing now thrust against Dean’s own. Little droplets oozed out of both their dicks and eased the way, making the gliding movements easier, faster.

Cas bit down gently on Dean’s neck and Dean’s hips stuttered. Dean’s fingers tightened on Cas’s mark and thrills ran down both their bodies.

“Oh gods, Cas…” Dean panted, tucking his head down against his bonded’s.  “Oh, oh, ohhhh…..” His movements picked up speed. Dean saw Cas’s eyes fluttering closed, felt his fingers spasm on Dean’s flesh and Cas’s hips stuttering against Dean’s.

“Deaaaaan—“ Cas’s voice growled out, thick with need.

Whimpering, the two men came, Dean first, his body locking in a rigid arch as he did. Cas rode out Dean’s orgasm by thrusting with abandon against Dean’s dick until Cas threw his head back with a shout and came for a second time.

They were sticky and sweaty and out of breath, but neither could stop the gentle smiles. Peeling their hands away from their marks and the small zings of pleasure the marks were still sending through their over sensitive bodies, Dean and Cas returned to kissing.

“That was…indescribable,” Dean said in a daze. Cas nodded against Dean’s lips, his chest heaving at their exertions but feeling content and pliant, unwilling to move from his bonded’s strong arms.

Cas had been dead.

The realization came to them both. Dean saw Cas’s eyes widen and something seemed to flit into his mind—perhaps something from the lingering connection the marks had forged. Though the strength of the mental bond was already fading, the thought—and the panic that accompanied it—was undeniably clear. And it was immensely disturbing to both of them exactly how close they’d come to not finding the one person who would accept them as they were. The person who they could admire both physically—and oh gods, was Cas mighty fine to look at!—and in personality.

A person that they could trust all their innermost secrets to, their very  _ lives  _ to.

The one person who was so compatible with them in every way, that when they accidentally chose each other, the bonding marks had so thoroughly agreed with their choice, that they’d created the biggest, most possessive marks either wizard had ever heard tale of.

“I know it’s early. I know it’s too soon to say it, we haven’t known each other near long enough, but gods, Cas, I love you. I already can’t imagine my life without you,” Dean whispered into Cas’s hair.

“I don’t care if it’s too soon. Because I feel the same.” Cas’s gravelly voice, tired but happy, rolled over Dean like a thick, warm blanket. “I love you too, Dean. And I’m so glad, however it happened, that you came here, to Canisbay. Because I have already seen my life without you, and my afterlife too, and nothing has ever felt quite so right to me as being here with you does.”

“Even though we’re wet and sticky?” Dean asked with a sly grin.

“I find I couldn’t care less about that, except as evidence of our love for each other,” Cas spoke, his eyes slipping shut.

Dean chortled tiredly, wrapping himself around Cas tighter. Now that he’d found Cas, Dean never wanted to let go.

Thankfully, it seemed Cas was completely on board with that if his tightening grip on Dean was anything to go by.

When Dean had attempted to settle down in Canisbay with his brother, something like this had never even crossed his mind as a possibility. The idea that he could find someone, to not be alone anymore, had seemed so impossible. Cas must have believed the same thing.

And yet here they were.

Together.

Happiness within their grasp.

Dean’s eyes closed, and together they drifted off to sleep, blissfully content.

 

* * *

 

** Lyrics for Lammas Night - Mercedes Lackey  **

_ (Parenthesis is the ghost) _

 

A waning moon conceals her face behind a scudding wind-torn cloud.  
(a wind-torn shroud)  
She wraps herself in its embrace as in a tattered cloak.  
(a shadow cloak)  
The wind is wailing in the trees. Their limbs are warped and bent and bowed.  
(so bleak and cowed)  
I stand within my circle now To deal with what I woke.  
(I wake- I see, but not yet free.)

A wandered of wizard kind I was, until a month ago  
(so well I know)  
The headman of this village came And begged that I should stay.  
(so cold and fey)  
"For since our wizard died" he said "And why he died we do not know-  
(so long ago!)  
We have no one to weave us spells and keep the Dark at bay."  
(the dark, so deep: so cold the sleep)

"His house and books are yours, milady, if you choose but to remain."  
(Remembered pain)  
His offer was too tempting to be lightly set aside  
(remembered pride)  
I'd wearied of my travel being plaything of the sun and rain-  
(choose to remain-)  
This was the chance I'd hoped for- and I said that I would bide.  
(I hope -I pray- and you must stay)

Perhaps if I had been a man and not a maid, perhaps if I had been less lonely, less alone, or less of magic folk-  
(the spell-bound broke)  
whatever weakness was in me, or for whatever reason why  
(my reason why)  
Something slept within that house that my own presence woke.  
(you dream so much- I try to touch)

A half- seen shadow courted me, stirred close at hand or by my side.  
(to bid you bide)  
It left a lover's token-one fresh blossom on my plate.  
(a fragrant bait)  
I woke to danger- knew the young magician still to Earth was tied-  
(for freedom cried)  
and tied to me- and I must act. or I might share his fate.  
(I need you aid, be not afraid.)

I found a spell for banishment- the pages then turned- and not by me!  
(look now and see)  
The next spell differed by one word, a few strokes of a pen.  
(and read again)  
The first one I had seen before, the spell to set a spirit free;  
(so I will be)  
The second let the mage-born dead take flesh and live again!  
(one spell and then I live again)

Now both these spells were equal in their risk to body and to soul.  
(I shall be whole)  
And both these spells demanded they be cast on Lammas Night.  
(the darkest night)  
and both these spells of spirit and of caster took an equal toll,  
(task to the soul)  
but nowhere is it writ that either spell is of the Light.  
(to live and see and touch, to be)

Can it be wise to risk the anger of the gods in such a task?  
(yet I must ask)  
yet who am I to judge of who should live and who should die?  
(don't let me die-)  
does love or duty call him? Is his kindness to me all a mask?  
(take up the task)  
and could I trust his answer if I dared to ask him "why?"  
(give me all your trust -my will [you must])

So now I stand within the circle I have drawn upon the floor-  
(the open door)  
I have no further answer if this spirit's friend or for  
(nor can you know)  
though I have prayed full often, nor can I this moment answer if I’ll tell him "come" or "go".

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does leave a few unanswered questions. I do not, at this time, plan on a sequel, though I think there's room for one.  
> Gabriel and Sam have their own quest to go on with Rowena to find, and some truths about Chuck that need to be discovered.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr if you don't already do so: [pherryt](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Thanks also go to [Braezenkitty ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty/works)for the BETA :D
> 
> Don't forget to stop by the artists Blog on tumblr as well : [ Grandle ](http://grandle.tumblr.com/) did a lot of hard work for not one but for MULTIPLE DCBB's! :D


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